


A Sordid Affair

by eveninglottie



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (this is the abusive one), Abusive Relationships, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Broken people finding comfort in one another's brokenness, Childhood Trauma, Depression, F/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Terrible Coping Mechanisms, Vex'ahlia/Saundor - Freeform, it's a heavy one, seriously there's a lot in this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-30 16:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8539894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveninglottie/pseuds/eveninglottie
Summary: The one where Vex took Saundor's deal and Percy let Orthax consume his soul. The Modern AU version, anyway.





	1. there was a time, dark and divine

**Author's Note:**

> Percy and Vex's relationship (or lack there of) will be the normal kind of dysfunctional with a big whopping of angst, but Vex and Saundor's relationship definitely strays into abuse territory. I'd rather make this disclaimer up front and be too careful than have someone reading something they're uncomfortable with or triggered by. I will try to add notes to the top of every chapter I think might be particularly troubling, but I might not catch everything. Saundor is fucked up, basically, and I've extrapolated from canon what kind of person I think he would be in a relationship. He's an abusive dickbag. This is your warning <3
> 
> [Tumblr](https://eveninglottie.tumblr.com/) | [Youtube Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLYYP1CurSOrRBpTbMNMV9mExnpViKOJ0C) | [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/eveninglottie/playlist/4XnPW0Jj1aNmRp3K6duBSP?si=aETgP0X2TvOIzXgszIv9xA)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Sordid Affair" by Röyksopp](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f8JhkiWR114&t=0s&list=PLYYP1CurSOrRBpTbMNMV9mExnpViKOJ0C&index=2)
> 
> [I commissioned some art of Vex in this first chapter, the way I see her. Go give the artist some love and then come back and freak out with me about how AMAZING this is <3](https://eveninglottie.tumblr.com/post/175959245324/vex-closed-her-eyes-letting-the-worries-of-the)

The dress’s tail whispered across the ground as Vex stalked through the ballroom, bare skin revealed every time she took a step. Thorns and flowers flowed up her hips with each shift of light, panels of lace creating a curling, tangled pattern that hid and hinted in equal measure. The slit up her left leg mirrored the one down the right side of her back. The velvet bunched with a teasing caress just on the edge of her hip. Every time she moved, she felt the stares of those caught in her snare follow the pace of her shifting, bare skin.

That was the goal, of course—to keep these people distracted with the show of her dress and the flash of her winning smile. That was why she’d attended the gala in the first place. She needed their money and their trust. The dress, the hair, the bare skin—it was all to lure them in.

A huntress in velvet with a quiver of smiles.

An innocuous piano sonata drifted over the soft chatter of millionaires and city officials hob-nobbing with businessmen and investors. All the rich and powerful of Emon whispering together in a building of glass, trading secrets and sex and money.

She used to find it exciting. Glamorous, even. Now she felt like a shackled wolf let loose among sheep. It was the same braggadocios stories told over and over, the same simpering, self-important people, the same mindless chatter and gossip, night after endless, choking night. They were all fools, but they were rich. And so here she was on a Saturday night, listening to wealthy widowers as they ogled over her skin, her teeth, her youth, the accessories on their arms staring at her with barely disguised lust or envy. Some even had the balls to hate her. Those were the ones she watched out for, kept in the corner of her sight while she played the crowd like a thief, slipping into conversations, stealing secrets, hoarding gossip. 

One never knew when a young and eager player might think to rise up and take her spot. She’d been the same, once upon a time. Plucked from obscurity to find she excelled in the hunt. Thrown to a nest of vipers, she had made herself a snake charmer. 

Vex was used to the attention. She’d cultivated it, honed it into a weapon, and draped herself in its stylish armor, its smooth, pearlescent skin and razor-sharp wit.

But she didn’t like it. She’d never liked it.

She took one last sip of champagne and sent a lingering look at a police chief who’d recently come into a large sum of money—a soft brush of her manicured fingers over his arm, a slow wink to land the shot and sever the artery of his reticence—she made an excuse to use the restroom.

The smell of his unctuous cologne was starting to drive her mad.

She conjured a laugh for a hasty greeting thrown at her like a net from some politician whose name she remembered but didn’t bother to acknowledge, and slipped out of the large ballroom before she could be caught. She walked until she could only hear the tap of her heels on the fine marble floor, the echo of her breath in an empty, gilded hallway.

Pressing her back against the cool wall, she closed her eyes and breathed deep against the tension thudding in her chest.

She’d made the deal. Saundor would be happy. He hadn’t expected her to settle the matter so soon, but, well, that was why he’d hired her as his personal assistant. She was good, _damn_ good, at charming just about anyone out of their money. Tonight was no exception.

But it’d been harder than usual to swallow the shrieking voice in the back of her mind that loathed all of it.

_I need a holiday_ , she thought with another heavy sigh. It’d been so long she’d taken some time away from the city and the crowds of mindless glitterati. Maybe she could convince him to let her have the weekend.

The side of her mouth curled up into a wry smile.

Of course she could convince him. After a few hours in that frilly red thing he liked, he’d give her anything she wanted. Usually.

She snapped open her clutch to check her cellphone—it was almost ten o’clock. The idea of staying at this gods-forsaken party for another two hours, when a car was due to arrive for her at midnight, made her chest constrict in unease.

She just needed some air. A few minutes in the brisk night chill and she’d shock herself back to normal.

Glancing down the hall to make sure no one was following, she slipped into the elevator and pressed the last button. Technically, no one was allowed access to the higher floors for the gala, but she didn’t care. She’d talked her way out of worse.

It was an old building, so luckily there was minimal electronic security. Picking the locks on the doors was simple—a trick she’d picked up after her brother had forced her to play look-out for him in their youth.

She meandered through the highest offices, idly peering into drawers, looking for anything which might catch her fancy. It was an old habit from her childhood, stealing small trinkets from her father’s friends whenever he dragged her to a diplomatic party. When he still had hope for her. Never mind that she’d become so much more than even he could have dreamed for her. She was still that little girl snooping in other people’s things, hoping to find some hidden talisman to let herself pass as someone who belonged. 

There was nothing interesting apart from a few sealed letters, and tic-tacs, which she slipped into her clutch. Insurance companies didn’t hire the most exciting employees. The real winners were the executives, and not for their sparkling personalities. No, if she’d learned anything over the past five years acting as personal assistant and representative for one of the most powerful men in Emon, and by extension, Tal Dorei, it was that the truly despicable assholes had wormed their way into the highest ranks of mundane companies to leech off their employees. They wouldn’t keep their unmentionables in an unlocked drawer.

She found the stairs for the roof access after a bit of searching, and breathed deep as she stepped out into the open. The night was warm for September, but there was still a bite in the air, the promise of autumn. She only shivered once as the wind whipped past her, skin pebbling with relish. She made sure the feather cuff over her right ear was secure before she ventured out further, propping her clutch between the door jamb to make sure it didn’t close and lock her out.

Peering out over the city, she could almost see the appeal which had so captured her brother. The glittering nights and bustling streets, the constant shuffle and murmur of activity. It was energetic and wild, and pulsed like a beating heart.

But she’d never found much worth in steel buildings and grimy streets.

A breeze caught a piece of her hair where it had slipped out of her carefully-pinned bun. It whipped across her face and she picked it off her lips where it stuck to her lipstick. “Oh, fuck it,” she muttered out loud when she repeated the action three times, and began to unpin her hair.

She went back to her clutch, tossing at least twenty pins in with her phone. She popped two tic-tacs into her mouth, playing with the case as she went back to the rail. Her hair brushed across her bare back, curling from where it had been pinned up all night. If anything, going back with windblown hair would only add to the rumors circling about in her absence.

Saundor’s femme fatale who could charm even the coldest heart out of its gold. The smiling hunter who had poached most of his best deals, winning them both international fame as a pair not to be underestimated.

Her fingers clenched over the tic-tac box. Trying to ignore the unease at imagining all of them talking about her, she turned around to survey the antenna attached to the top of the building. Her eyes fell on a small ladder drilled into the brick facade, rising to where she assumed maintenance would climb up to fix anything wrong with the apparatus.

She moved forward without a thought, throwing the tic-tacs back onto the ground by the door and hiking her dress up. It had been expensive—the fine teal velvet was one of her favorites—and she took care not to let anything snag as she climbed.

She let out a small laugh of exhilaration as she straightened up on the platform, shaking out her shoulders with a wide smile.

Vex closed her eyes, letting the worries of the night go. Up there in the sharp breeze, she could almost imagine she was somewhere far away from the city and the lights, somewhere fresh and clean and quiet. Somewhere shrouded in the smells of a forest. At the edge of a crystalline lake. Standing on top of a mountain with the chill night wind in her hair and nothing but the stars to keep her from falling up into the sky. Flying. Feral. Free.

_One day._

Her reverie was short-lived as a little click sounded to her left.

She peered over the opposite side of the platform, heart leaping up into her throat. _Just a security guard, probably_ , she thought in disappointment. Asshole hadn’t given her more than five minutes before…

A tall, lean man with a shock of tousled white hair edged out onto the landing, wearing a fine, if a little rumpled, black coat. He cast around for something, bending to retrieve what she thought was a piece of wood, to prop the door open.

He turned, and she caught the frame of his glasses but couldn’t see his face. The light coming from the antenna behind her was casting most of him in shadow. She could only make out the aquiline tip of his nose. Pale. Sharp. Almost predatory.

Vex leaned against the upper railing, rested her chin on her hand, and settled in to study him.

He seemed restless, running his fingers through his hair and muttering something under his breath. A puff of mist ghosted from his mouth as he scratched at his chin.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she watched him dig in his pockets. He didn’t seem like the kind of person she usually met at these parties. Too much unspent energy that hadn’t been worked away over years of careful conditioning. Or, perhaps there was a specific wildness to his pacing that seemed forced. As if he _had_ been conditioned only to throw it all away in rebellion.

_Silly,_ she thought to herself. She was inventing a life for this stranger without even seeing his face. 

The coat looked nice, but it was a little old-fashioned for anyone wealthy enough to keep up with the latest trends. And while his hair might be white, he didn’t hold himself like an old man. A bit hunched, maybe, but there was a vitality to the tension in his soldiers, to the little twitches which didn’t seem to be a product of the cold night air.

Finally, he fished something out of his pockets, an adorable _‘a-ha,’_ making it nearly impossible for her to remain quiet. A soft click, a flicker of flames, and the slow crinkle of a cigarette burning.

The longer she just stood there staring at him, the more awkward it would be to finally show herself.

But there was something…entrancing about this mysterious figure, hunched over in his coat and staring off into the night like a nocturnal bird of prey. This man who, like her, had come up to the top of the building to seek out a moment of peace or escape.

Vex bit her lip, a flutter of nerves alighting in her stomach as she tucked her hair back and stood up straighter. She called out, “Spare one for a stranger?”

He nearly dropped his cigarette as he jerked around. “Sweet _Pelor_ , what the bloody—” He broke off as he stared up at her, such abject shock on his face that she couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

_Well, hello, handsome,_ she thought. He definitely wasn’t an old man.

The light behind her illuminated an aristocratic face, with high cheekbones and a slight jaw, wireframe glasses perched crookedly on his sharp nose. A very nice face. 

He blinked owlishly, his mouth opening and closing before he finally frowned. “Hello,” he said after a moment’s silence.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I—what?”

Vex laughed. “Do you have another cigarette?”

He seemed to realize she was teasing him. “I might,” he said, still the faint note of fear in his voice. “Though I make a point of not offering anything to strange women who accost me on rooftops.”

“That’s disappointing.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the rail. His accent was posh and proper, but a little rough. Sort of like his coat.

“It might help if I could see your face.” He blinked a few times. “I feel a little like I’m speaking to a solar eclipse.”

Vex bit back her laugh. The small scrunch in his nose as he squinted up at her was rather adorable. All that predatory grace had vanished in an instant, and left a bewildered, charming man in its place. “Maybe I’m trying to keep you off your guard.”

“It’s working,” he said with a pained smile. “I’m not entirely sure I’m not hallucinating right now, actually.”

She hummed in a laugh and straightened. “Hold on.”

“Do you need help getting down?”

She arched an eyebrow at him, though he couldn’t see it. “I did get up on my own. I think I’ll be all right.”

“Oh. Of course.”

She took the ladder too quickly, having to catch herself at the last second before she landed flat on her ass. Thankfully, he hadn’t come around to her side of the roof.

Vex picked up her clutch, unlatching it just in case she needed to use the pepper spray she carried with her at all times. She had other ways of defending herself, and he didn’t seem like the kind of man to jump her, but she’d been wrong before. It didn’t hurt to be prepared.

She smoothed out her dress and flipped her hair over her shoulder, conscious of her appearance all of a sudden. _Stupid_ , she told herself, and stepped around the corner.

He was practically leaning over the side of the building to get a look at her, cigarette comically hanging on his lower lip.

The second he saw her, he straightened, coughing a little as he inhaled too quickly. Long, slender fingers adjusted his glasses as his other hand slid behind his back in some kind of show of propriety.

_Damn_ , he was marvelously tall. He must have been at least six inches taller than she was.

“Well?” she asked as she came to a stop a few feet from him, one hand still holding her clutch firmly while the other was braced on her hip.

“Oh, right,” he said, seeming to have a hard time looking away from her. He slipped out another cigarette from his case and offered it up.

She placed it between her lips, staring at him pointedly as she leaned forward.

He produced his lighter, hesitating before he stretched out and lit the end of her cigarette.

Vex breathed slowly, wincing a little at the terrible quality. “Still convinced I’m an illusion?”

“Getting there.” He studied her, sharp eyes holding hers. “Though now I’m thinking that all my bad luck is finally starting to reap some benefits and I don’t really care if you’re real or not.”

Warmth pulsed at the base of her spine. She grinned. “Good answer. These are terrible, by the way. Your taste is atrocious.”

“Only in tobacco products, I assure you.”

Her laughter bubbled up from her lips. _Oh no. This is no good at all._ “I’ll take your word for it.”

“I hesitate to ask what a woman in a dress like that is doing up here alone.”

“Don’t. I don’t mind.”

His eyes were bright as he smiled. “Very well. What is a woman in a dress like that doing up here alone?”

“I imagine the same as you,” she murmured, running her eyes along his clothes, trying to work out the figure underneath. He leaned forward, as if part of his body was straining to move even with his feet locked firmly in place. “Though I don’t smoke much anymore.”

He wore an expensive suit under his coat, but the tie was undone along with the first few buttons of his shirt. All nice, all fashionable, even if he treated them with the same care one might treat a hole-riddled sweater. She tried to think if she’d seen him down in the party, but it had just been a blur of the same tired faces. She would have remembered him, surely.

He nodded in agreement even as smoke trailed out of his mouth and up around his face. “Terrible habit. But at this point it’s the only non-prescriptive thing that seems to calm me down. Better the devil you know, all that rubbish.”

She hummed in consideration and rested her hip against the rail. “Were you invited to Uriel’s little party, then? I don’t think I’ve seen you at any of his official gatherings before.”

His brow furrowed. “No, you wouldn’t have. I…came with a friend. She’s down there right now, but I’ve been—wandering most of the night.”

“Oh, of course,” she said quickly, trying to keep her voice cool. There was no reason to be disappointed he’d come with someone. She might be…available in the strict sense, but it was a stupid idea to get involved with anyone she didn’t know wouldn’t make her life more difficult.

Even if he was staring at her like he still couldn’t believe she was real.

And damn it had been a long time since she’d been fucked by a stranger with a nice face and a hesitant smile.

“More of a business associate, really,” he said haltingly. “A partner.”

She just watched him, trying not to think too much about how emphatically he’d made the distinction. “And what business would that be?”

“Weapons manufacturing.”

That took her by surprise. He seemed more like a librarian than an arms dealer. A hot librarian, granted.

“I’m something of an engineer.”

“Interesting.” That made more sense.

“And you?”

“Personal assistant.”

He frowned. “Really?”

She laughed at the tone of disbelief. “Yes, really.” It wasn’t the first time anyone had reacted that way. She was used to it, even it it stung a little every time to have to explain.

“You just—sorry, that was rather offensive of me.”

“A bit,” she said, unable to stop herself from smiling. “If it makes you feel better, it’s just what my paychecks say.” A pause. “I’m something of a financial advisor.”

“Ah.” He seemed mollified with that answer.

_Bit judgmental, aren’t we?_

“Do you come to these kinds of things often?” he asked after another moment.

Vex tried not to laugh. She really did. But the question was so cliché, she couldn’t help it.

“Sorry,” she said around a bubble of laughter, looking away to compose herself. “I—yes, I do. It’s part of my job.”

When she met his gaze again, he wasn’t embarrassed. Instead, he was watching her with a small, incredulous smile, his eyes fixed on her lips.

A shudder pulsed in her chest as she straightened, heat pooling at the base of her spine. “I convince other people to give me money.”

“So not really a financial advisor at all.”

“It depends on who you’re asking, I guess.”

“I’ll bet.”

Her eyes widened at the almost unconscious answer, at the breathy rasp of his voice.

He seemed to realize only a second too late that he’d spoken out loud, and cleared his throat. “I only mean—you seem like a very charismatic woman.”

“You met me five minutes ago.” Her voice was soft, playful, but her heart beat faster as she held his gaze.

“You charmed me out of a cigarette and into a conversation.” He inclined his head in defeat. “This doesn’t happen to me very often.”

“Casual conversations with strangers or being accosted by a solar eclipse?”

He let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Both.”

“Perhaps you should get out more.”

“Perhaps. Though I rather like the idea of this being a unique moment in time. More special that way.”

Another pulse of warmth. _He’s not subtle. I’ll give him that._ “Don’t you say the loveliest things,” she murmured, head tilting as she tried to study him, to figure out who the fuck this dashing young man was.

“I’m trying very hard,” he added, not at all self-conscious. “For the record.”

“You’re doing very well.” Vex leaned in conspiratorially. “For the record.”

“Good.” The slight, sideways smile quirking up his lips, as if he were indulging in a secret only the two of them knew, was strangely affecting in the dim light. The shadows cut fey patterns into his face, angular lines of black and white running stark along his dignified features. Like some being with one foot in this world and one without.

There was hunger in his eyes, but it wasn’t borne of a desire to consume or possess…

Rather to taste.

“I think your cell phone just vibrated,” he murmured, that light in his eyes sparking with amusement.

“Oh—right,” she muttered, the sudden heat in her chest making it hard to concentrate.

She slipped her cigarette between her lips and pulled out her phone.

 

 _**Saundor**. 10:34 PM  
_ Just got the call from Krieg. Good work. Car should be there in ten.

 

“Something wrong?”

She looked up, realizing she’d been frowning at her screen. “No, no.” She shook her head, shooting off a quick message. 

 

 _ 10:35 PM  
_my knight in shining armor <3

 

The response came immediately.

 

 _**Saundor**. 10:35 PM  
_ Always.

 

Vex slipped her phone back into her clutch, taking one last, long pull of her cigarette. Wincing slightly, she sighed, “I have to go.”

Tapping the lit end against the rail, she glanced back up at her mystery man just in time to see disappointment flicker over his features.

_Oh, gods_ , she thought with a little swell of heat. It was stupid. She didn’t know fuck all about him, but a small part of her wanted desperately to see him again. Surely a name wouldn’t be so bad.

She said, “A car’s coming to pick me up.”

“Lucky car.”

She laughed, the sound high and a little uncontrolled.

_Ask for his name. His number. Something._

“Thank you for the momentary revelation,” he murmured, eyes tight on her face.

She breathed through the knot in her chest, the sparkling wedge of momentary insanity that felt some significance in the meeting. He was just another person seeking silence. There was nothing more to it than that.

But damn her if she didn’t want him to ask her to stay.

“Thank you for the lung cancer.” She took a breath, tearing her gaze away from the smile that held her, and stepped back. “I’ve found that pretending they’re all wearing bright pink underwear helps to ease the tension a bit.”

He laughed and made a slight movement, as if he might follow her, but then he looked down. “I’ll give it a try.”

Vex just smiled at him, hand resting in the gap between the door and the frame.

_Ask him, you fucking idiot._

But instead, she just turned away, throwing one last look over her shoulder. “Good luck.”

The slow walk down the stairs and through the empty building felt miles longer than it had before. She kept stopping herself from turning around, to see if he’d followed her.

She closed her eyes when she got into the elevator, scolding herself for the weird, hopeful knot in her chest. It was just a freak meeting. A smile tugged at her lips. 

_A momentary revelation._

The little girl who’d believed in love at first sight had long since grown up and rid herself of such inane delusions. It felt magical because it was different, that was all. It hadn’t been love. It had been intrigue. Excitement. Probably a fair amount of lust, too.

The mystery man was a puzzle. She liked puzzles. And people were the best kind. But that didn’t mean it was anything more than a fleeting, lovely, ridiculously wonderful moment in time.

No matter how much she wanted it to be.

Vex slid into the back of the limo, giving Saundor’s driver a small, necessary smile, and leaned back against the leather interior with a sigh.


	2. when it comes to love, you're an easy fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["I'm A Ruin" by Marina and the Diamonds](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZT_skmohD-c&t=0s&index=3&list=PLYYP1CurSOrRBpTbMNMV9mExnpViKOJ0C)

Vex rose from the bed, trying not to jostle the mattress, the soft slide of silk across her bare skin a reminder of where she was, and who she was with. 

She padded silently across the room in darkness. She knew the layout well enough not to have to turn on the light. And she didn’t want to wake Saundor. He’d ask her to stay the night, she’d say no, remind him of her rule, and, if he were in a particularly foul mood, he’d start a fight. He’d seemed pleased when she arrived a few hours ago, but he was a hard man to read. She’d long since given up trying to figure out if something would set him off. It was touch and go, these days, anyway. Any patterns she’d learned were seeming to fade with the growth of their relationship. 

It was just better to let him stew for a few days while she conducted his business in relative peace. He would come around eventually—usually when he looked at his portfolio and realized how brilliant she was.

She nearly had her dress on when the light next to his bed flipped on.

Fuck.

She shot Saundor a look over her shoulder as he lounged on his side.

One eyebrow quirked, dark eyes glinting. Bare chest gleaming in the low-light. Entirely too gorgeous to be safe. “Sneaking out in the dead of night?” he murmured.

“I didn’t want to wake you. I know how ridiculous you can be when you don’t get your beauty sleep.” She smiled at him as she slid the dress over her shoulder, fastening the buttons along her hip. “And honestly, I didn’t think you’d wake up after our little romp. It was rather spirited. I believe I remember hearing the phrase, ‘oh gods, Vex’ahlia, you are the most amazing lay I’ve ever had.’ ”

He didn’t smile, but his eyes danced with dark humor. “So humble.”

She gave him her best smile as she grabbed her shoes, walking back toward him with a small sway in her hips.

His eyes dropped to them almost immediately. _So predictable._

“You should go back to sleep,” she murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to his brow.

He reached out before she could move away, one hand snaking around her waist and the other grabbing her wrist. “Stay. One night. You can’t tell me you don’t enjoy yourself here.” He nudged her shoes out of her grip with his nose, pressing a kiss to her pulse as they fell to the floor. “I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”

She snorted. “You can’t cook.”

“I’ll order in.”

She bit her lip as he pulled her hand to his mouth, slipping her thumb between this teeth. “I have to go feed Trinket. He worries if I don’t come home.”

“Your dog will survive one night alone.”

She shivered as his fingers slid under the fabric of her dress. _Damn it._ “He’s not alone. Vax is home tonight.”

“Even better.” His eyes flashed up to her, dark under heavy, black brows. She let out a heady breath as his tongue swept along the base of her palm. “I don’t think I’ve adequately congratulated you on your stunning performance tonight. Krieg was three seconds away from asking me to lend you to him.”

What heat had been pooling in her stomach froze. She pulled her hand from his mouth, tipping his chin up to look directly into her eyes. “Because you own me?” she asked, trying to sound smooth and soft. “How chauvinist of you.” Anger leaked through her voice even though she tried to stop it.

“Vex’ahlia, it was a joke.”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?”

His lips turned up into a smile nonetheless, grip tightening over her waist and hand sliding down to palm her ass. A teasing, animalistic purr ran through his voice as he murmured, “Well, now you have to stay so I can make you happy again.”

“Saundor—”

“One night,” he murmured into her stomach, nuzzling the velvet of her dress and humming into her. “Break your rule for one night. Please.”

She leaned in unconsciously, her body reacting to the urgency in his voice. She tried to hold onto her anger, but it wouldn’t do her any good anyway. It was unfair, honestly. He had no right to have such a marvelously deep voice.

Vex let him pull her back onto the bed, though she remained upright as he began to kiss her neck, her shoulders. “My _rule_ keeps this little arrangement of ours from becoming too complicated.”

He froze, grip tightening around her wrist ever so slightly. “You talk as if this is some business transaction.”

“You just made a joke about whoring me out to a client, and you’re upset that I want to keep some distance between work and pleasure?” She swallowed back the frustration. _Every fucking time…_ “You know what I mean. I work for you. There are boundaries. And I’ve already gone and broken most of them, but—” She broke off as he gripped her chin, pulling it toward him just a little too roughly.

His mouth fell on hers—hard, insistent, demanding—and fuck if she didn’t lean into it. It was always like this. She would try to keep some space between them, he would push her, and because she liked it, damn her, she would let him. That need, that craving for contact—it was the reason she’d fallen for him in the first place. When she knew she should have refused. Should refuse _now_.

Vex pulled away after a few minutes, hand pressing firmly back against his chest. “I’ve already texted your driver. And you know that I have trouble sleeping without Trinket.”

For a moment, his face was hard, unyielding, but then his lips pursed. A small concession. “That dog cannot be better company than I am.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, pulling his hand from her waist and readjusting her dress. “Don’t make me choose between you and Trinket. You will lose.”

He eyed her for a moment, and she could tell he was on the brink of turning this into a fight.

_Not tonight. Please._

He tilted his head, threading his hands through her hair and tucking it behind her ear. One finger curled under her chin. “Will you ever give your heart to me, fair Vex’ahlia?”

She tried not to let her relief show as she laughed, combing back his long brown hair and pressing a lingering kiss to his mouth. “One needs a heart to give it away, dear,” she murmured. She rose to her feet, stepping away before he could trap her again.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said as he slumped back to his pillows, lean frame stretched taut like an arrow as he spread across his bed. 

“Of course.” She tried not to let her eyes wander too long, but he was…gorgeous. In an entirely dangerous kind of way.

“I mean it. Krieg is on the council. Your maneuvering means I might finally be able to get an audience with Uriel, rather than just send you to his parties.”

“You could go to the parties yourself, you know.” 

Vex slipped on her heels and grabbed her clutch from the table on the far wall—the fine, dark wood nearly vanishing into the mahogany paneling and the navy carpet. The whole apartment was a study in how dark Saundor could decorate without giving the impression that his guests had just fallen into a hole in the ground. Or it would be, if he let anyone else into his bedroom. That privilege had been Vex’s for the past five years, and Vex’s alone.

“It’s all well and good for me to schmooze,” she continued, “but they’re signing on with you.”

“Yes, but you do it so well.”

She shot him a half-smile over her shoulder as she secured her feather cuff to her ear. “I do, don’t I?” Turning back to the mirror, she frowned, hoping her make-up might pass for ‘intensely smoky’ rather than the raccoon imitation it actually was.

She brushed out her hair with her fingers, trying to make it look like she hadn’t just been having sex. A waft of cigarette smoke drifted up and into her nostrils. She paused, staring at her shadowed reflection in the mirror.

On an idiotic whim, she asked, “Have you heard any whispers of Uriel dealing with a weapons manufacturer?”

“Hm?”

Vex turned around to find Saundor’s eyes closed, his expression smooth. “Oh, I see. You beg me to stay so I can watch you sleep?”

“I’d be happy to wake up if you take your dress off so I can fuck you until you’re hoarse from screaming my name.”

“Charming as always,” she murmured, even as she smiled a little. They both knew who would be screaming if she got back into his bed. “I’m serious, is there something going on I should know about?”

He didn’t open his eyes. “Krieg mentioned something about a deal for top of the line firearms from a new player, but nothing’s set in stone. Sounds more like speculation than hard fact.”

She bit her lip, disliking the idea that her mystery man would be doing business with that boor. Which was rather hypocritical, of course. She just…wanted to keep thinking of that white-haired stranger on the roof—flustered and obvious and adorable—not having anything to do with the rot of her world.

He’d said he was an engineer. Maybe he’d just been brought along as a novelty. Maybe he wasn’t involved in any of the political machinations.

“Why?”

“What?” she asked, turning back to Saundor with an innocent smile.

His eyes were open now, watching her closely. Chips of flint in the near darkness. “Why do you ask?”

“I met an interesting man tonight who might have been involved, that’s all. I was just curious.”

Saundor sat up, his face falling into a serious mask. Gone was the lust and desire she’d learned to warp to her advantage. He was nothing but the ruthless businessman now, rising to walk toward her with a hard, silent grace. “This man was talking about the deal?”

“No—gods,” she laughed, “he just mentioned his job. No foul play.”

He stopped in front of her, eyes darting down to her lips as she continued to smile. “Interesting, was he?”

“A little.”

He hummed, eyes flashing as he leaned in to kiss her jaw. His hips pressed hers back into the table and his arms fell to either side of her waist, caging her. “Should I be jealous?”

“You can be whatever you like,” she murmured, schooling her voice to be nothing but smooth and sensual, to ignore the frustration at the idea that he should be anything but overjoyed by her work for him, “but taking into account that you pay me to go to these parties and make connections for you, I think I should be granted the benefit of the doubt.”

“Then perhaps I should pay you to do something else.”

Her jaw clenched as she pulled away. Lovely. “Well, you certainly keep stepping in it tonight, don’t you?”

“Vex’ahlia—”

“Let me out, Saundor. My phone is vibrating.”

His body tensed. He breathed out hard onto her neck. For a moment, she thought he would refuse, and she would need to assert herself. It had only happened a few times, and it never went further than a final word from her. But Saundor was a man who was used to getting what he wanted. And he had made it very, very clear from that start that he wanted nothing more than _her_ , in all things.

He stepped back after a taut silence, sweeping her hair over her shoulder and running his eyes along her face possessively. “You’re lucky I’m so fond of you.”

Vex said nothing, disliking the pit in her stomach that twisted. She would need to avoid him for the next few days while things calmed down. They always did.

She was at the door when he called out, voice liquid smooth, the voice of a lover, “I need you here next weekend. I just remembered that I need to go over my stock portfolio for next quarter. You can have time off next month.”

Ice pulsed in her chest, but she merely nodded. “All right.” Her voice was soft, simple. “Have a good night.”

She stepped into the dark hallway of his penthouse apartment and pulled the door shut with a small click. She waited, breathing through the frustration at letting herself get so tangled up in his ego. The longer this…thing between them went on, the more complicated it was getting. If she weren’t working for him perhaps it wouldn’t be so fraught. 

A small part of her wondered if she would stay. She might love him. She certainly thought she had, once upon a time, when he’d opened his heart to her and she’d let him heal her, let him put her back together piece by shaking piece until she resembled everything she’d always wanted to be, everything he had wanted her to be. 

Of course she would stay. It was silly even to imagine leaving. He understood her, probably better than anyone apart from Vax, and even then her brother was more willing to let her flaws fall to the wayside than acknowledge them.

Saundor spoke to a part of her she kept hidden—locked away in a tight box in the blackest corner of her heart. A part of her that was more real than the careless smiles and flashy winks. It was all an act. And he knew that. He knew what gnarled, thorn-covered thing lay beneath the veneer of confidence and charm. The monster she’d been, and perhaps still was, somewhere deep down. 

Did anyone truly recover from such darkness? She didn’t think so. Saundor had accepted her. There weren’t many people who would understand her so well, who would take her, broken heart and all. And that was worth keeping, in spite of everything else. 

Vex took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders back, and walked down the hall to the waiting car.


	3. there's no room for innocence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Keep The Streets Empty For Me" by Fever Ray](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jWFb5z3kUSQ&index=4&list=PLYYP1CurSOrRBpTbMNMV9mExnpViKOJ0C&t=0s)

The party was a test set down by the capricious gods of torture to determine just how much bullshit Percy could deal with before he up and quit. It had to be. That, or Ripley was getting back at him for failing to mention that their employer had visited last month while she was busy working on a project. A bit of both, perhaps.

He watched the crowd mingle and gossip and preen like a bunch of overdressed peacocks from the edge of the room, trying insincerely to keep his expression pleasant. He might have been dragged here and he might have to stay for another ten minutes, but he wasn’t going to be happy about it. And from the looks he’d been getting from those few Emon elite whom Ripley had managed to hook into a conversation, his intentions were apparent to everyone else as well.

He fiddled with the tic-tac box in his pocket, long since emptied of its contents. After circling the roof a few times just to get the image of dark eyes and a luminous face out of his head, he’d spotted it lying near the other door.

She must have left it when she gathered her things.

Or it was just some random tic-tacs that had been sitting up on that roof for gods knew how long and he was currently transfixed by someone else’s oral fetish.

He knew how ridiculous it was. But he had nothing else of her to keep in his pocket and mull over, so he’d settled for it. However odd.

And it _was_ odd. The whole thing was odd.

He tapped his fingers on the table, wanting to wander off again so he could let his mind settle. The soft rustle of fabric and the hint of disparate voices—sometimes dipping to echo in hollow verse the pitch of her voice, the cadence of her laugh, just off, just ever so slightly—served as a constant reminder that she’d been here and he hadn’t seen her. He’d been ghosting in and out of the party all night. 

And he hadn’t seen her.

_How_ had he not seen her?

A personal assistant, a financial advisor…to whom, though? One of the council, maybe. She seemed that important. Someone wealthy, surely, which meant power in Emon. He should have asked for her damn name. _Coward_ , he thought with a frown.

A hand closed over his to stop the tapping—skin cold, grip rough, but firm. He shot a frown at the woman next to him. Ripley wore a well-tailored grey dress, stark, efficient, and utterly suited to her. She patted his hand once and went back to speaking with whatever rich sycophant was watching him with curiosity.

Percy swallowed his frustration at the show of dominance. She knew how uncomfortable it made him. The only reason he was here was because she’d forced him to come and play nice with potential investors, and she was treating him like a jumped up child. He was acting like a jumped up child, but it still made him want to smash the glass table to the floor.

He was a spectacle—the youngest lead engineer Orthax Arms and Security Co. had hired in the history of weapons manufacturing, the tragic displaced heir to a fallen, faraway country. Sullen, sharp, secretive, and utterly disinterested in anything that didn’t have to do with guns.

Or that was how Ripley had branded him. That was his role at these affairs, to be the talking point and piece of gossip rich bankers could bring up at their next shareholder gala. To be the broken beast paraded in front of the gathered safari to snap pictures of and whisper of wildness to their sheltered, simple minds.

No one knew the truth was far closer than they imagined.

“I’m going out for some fresh air,” he said under his breath, not bothering to meet Ripley’s sharp gaze as it snapped to him, and tried to pin him down. He brushed through the crowd without thought, ignoring the scandalized looks of those he upset, his mind already thirteen stories up in the sky and wrapped around a laugh that sparkled with starlight.

He ran a hand through his hair as it got whipped up in a sudden breeze when he stepped out of the building. He kept forgetting to schedule an appointment to get it cut. It was curling around his ears now, and the longer it grew, the more he messed with it. Let it grow untamed. It would add to the mystique. 

How his mother would have hated it. 

He lit his fourth cigarette of the night, frowning around its end as he breathed deeply and leaned against the side of the building. He should quit smoking. He knew better. He didn’t live a healthy life as it was, fueled by coffee and crisps whenever he remembered to eat. He could ill afford such a cancerous habit. But on nights like this, when he felt like his skin was crawling and his head was too loud to distinguish the noise from the sound, he couldn’t help it.

He stared off into the dark night, the city lights glowing halcyonic and casting pools of shadow across the wide, artificially manicured streets. Coruscated with headlights and cell-phone beams. Neon colors blaring loudly through the static of a grey city block. The party was being held in one of the renovated buildings along the river, in an area of Emon that had seen so much gentrification in the past few years he could scarcely recognize the old train depots and stations that he’d visited as a child. 

It was one of the reasons he’d come here, after Whitestone had fallen. To see the trains. To remember who he was before his world had been blasted apart. 

A woman crossed his line of sight, arm in arm with a tall man and wearing a thick fur coat.

The woman on the roof hadn’t been wearing a coat. She hadn’t even seemed cold, though it must be nearly forty degrees out.

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, picturing the sly curve of her lips, the bright, searching light in her dark eyes. He should have asked for her name. He’d been so caught up in her presence, her shining, effortless presence, that he hadn’t even thought to ask for her number. People did that, right? Asked for numbers from complete strangers? It wouldn’t have been so odd to ask for her number after a shared cigarette and a transcendent moment on a lonely roof. After the moment had fallen together so perfectly even his own mind had quieted for a few minutes to just exist. To just…breathe.

“Damn it,” he whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was why he didn’t leave his workshop, why he avoided parties exactly like this. He didn’t have time to become obsessed with some woman he’d met and would never see again. And he would become obsessed, he could already tell. His mind might be a twisted and dark thing, but he recognized the tracks already being laid. He’d dwell. He was a dweller. And she would become this fey creature who had walked in and out of his life like a dream he couldn’t quite recall. 

There was another gala happening in two weeks that Orthax himself had asked him to attend. One of their shareholders had come into a new some of money and was hinting at doubling down on their investment if Percy were willing to relax his iron grip on some of his more devastating patents. He wouldn’t of course—there were lines he would not cross, even now.

He couldn’t afford to let his mind walk off with his sense before throwing himself to the wolves.

His phone buzzed, and he half-expected it to be Ripley telling him to get his ass back inside and finish out the night.

It wasn’t.

 

 **Little Prophet**. 12:52 PM   
Once again, I’m asking if you intend to visit for Winter’s Crest.  
—  
I do need to plan for you, so it would be nice if you let me know before you cancel this time.

 

Percy sighed, glaring down at his phone as if it might answer for him. But before he could put it away, it buzzed again. 

 

 **Little Prophet**. 12:54 PM   
And because I know you will ignore this in the hope that I leave you alone, I am prepared to ask that horrible woman you call a business partner to pester you until I get an answer.  
—  
Pick your battles, brother.

 

He grinned in spite of himself, but slid his phone back into his coat without answering. He didn’t want to give Cassandra any false hope this time, but he wasn’t sure he could go back to Whitestone this year. Last year had been so unbearable he’d simply missed his flight and neglected to mention it until Cassandra had called him from the airport to chastise him with such venom he nearly bought another ticket right then. The year before that, he’d been working, and the year before that, Cassandra had come to visit him. 

The year before that, he did not think about. 

It was easier to stay in Emon, away from Cassandra’s hawk-like gaze, from her unspoken questions, the silent expectation that one day he would stop this charade of independence and come home for good. That he would swallow his trauma and return like the de Rolo he was, and would need to one day become again.

When he was thousands of miles away from Whitestone, sequestered in his workshop with no sounds but that of the record player, he could pretend he’d forgotten the night it all went to hell. The night the last good part of him had gone up in flames.

His cigarette was almost burnt down to its filter when people finally started exiting the party. Some shot him curious looks, while others seemed too drunk to notice their own feet let alone a man standing just outside the pool of light.

Ripley walked briskly over to him, her face a tight mask of frustration.

Percy snuffed the cigarette against the brick wall and straightened up, looking around for a receptacle as he readied himself for her displeasure.

“Well, you were in peak form tonight,” she said with a lifted brow, piercing him with a sharp, domineering look. “Honestly, you’re too smart not to understand that we need money to make things, and that these kind of people only give money to people they like. It’s infantile to keep—” She broke off with a huff. “What the hell are you doing?”

He gave her a frown, walking a few feet to the next lamp and throwing his cigarette into the trash bin sitting in its circle of light. “I’d rather not add to the global waste crisis if I can help it.”

Ripley’s jaw clenched in annoyance, and he had to fight a small grin. It was the small things that made his life bearable, honestly.

“Let’s go,” she said with a grimace, tucking herself further into her thick fur coat, as if that might make her feel more at home amongst the money and power spilling out from the gala around her. “I’m freezing.” 

Of course. She wanted him to come back with her. 

It had happened a few times, when he’d been feeling particularly destructive, and he could swallow his own sense of morals. She was an appealing woman, and he admired her tenacity at times, but there was no fondness there. Neither of them were under any illusions that it was anything but physical. They would need trust for that. And even if Anna Ripley were the kind of woman he could have, theoretically, trusted, he could not anymore. 

Sometimes he wondered if that, too, had been broken the same night his parents had been murdered. 

He considered it for a moment, if only to get his mind off the woman in dark velvet, with blue feathers in her hair. But the thought made him ashamed of himself. He might be a monster, but he wouldn’t stoop that low. 

“Actually,” he took a purposeful step away from her, “I think I’m going to walk home. It shouldn’t take me more than an hour. If I get cold, I’ll call a cab.”

Ripley just stared at him, eyes hardening into iron. Not hurt, or offended, simply…angry. She was always angry. He’d come to believe that anger was her fuel of choice. He hoped it kept her warm at night. 

It certainly hadn’t helped him much, when it came down to it.

“You asked me to come, Anna, and I came,” he said in a pleasant, polite tone, as if he were thanking her for the invitation. “You and I both know that I was here for a show, not for any real business.”

“Because putting in a little effort now and again would hurt that dour reputation you’ve built for yourself, right?” She tilted her head, a cruel smile to her thin lips. “If you’re not careful, de Rolo, Orthax might decide you’re worth less than the trouble you cause him.”

“And he’d let you take my spot?” he asked with an easy smile, fighting the self-loathing that reared up inside him. “You’d need to actually create something worth the promotion.”

They stared at each other, both of them unwilling to back down, to show their neck. Percy tried to keep his expression neutral, but it was growing hard to remember why he should bother anymore.

Maybe he should just let her take over. Stop the useless effort to curb what he’d already started five years ago and just let the world burn in her hands. The technology he’d given Orthax was still in development, and he had been able to keep it that way so far. No one else knew how Pepperbox worked, but Ripley was desperate to figure it out. He knew the moment he left or let his guard slip, Ripley would slither in and start mass-producing like wild. And Orthax would let her. 

That, of course, was assuming that Orthax let him leave at all. It’d be far more expedient to dispose of him, and keep the whole matter quiet and contained. 

Percy didn’t know if his conscience, living or not, could hold that much more death. He’d already broken the scales of justice, he didn’t want to break the world.

“Have a good night, Anna,” he finally said, turning around and walking toward his neighborhood. “I’ll see you at work in the morning.”

It was a bit longer than an hour, he knew, but he couldn’t stand being cramped up in a car with her right now. He needed to walk, and work out the hatred growing wings in his heart. He breathed deep, letting the chill flow down into his lungs and numb the noise that still buzzed staccato in his mind. Roaring static. Cigarette burn down his throat. Wind finding the cracks of his coat and piercing. Punishing. 

The soft sound of his shoes striking pavement, the steady flow of his breath in and out of his chapped lips—it didn’t ease his thoughts, but it caged them, let him set them aside for the moment.

He found himself thinking of _her_ again. Of her hair where it spilled over her skin like ink over paper, silky, liquid. Of that little smirk that seemed to offer more promise than any oath, however sincere. 

_Blue feathers tucked behind her ear_ , he thought with a smile as the quiet of the city settled over him like a shroud. _Of all the odd, hopeful things…_


	4. begged, borrowed, and cried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["God Knows I Tried" by Lana Del Rey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sxaq2Hn3U_k&t=0s&index=5&list=PLYYP1CurSOrRBpTbMNMV9mExnpViKOJ0C)

Vex woke to a mouthful of fur and a warm, panting weight draped over stomach. She smiled, rolling over the dog smushed up so thoroughly against her he was practically giving her a hug. He smelled a little of sweat and old crackers—she’d need to give him a bath soon.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” she cooed, burying her face into the scruff of Trinket’s neck and giving his belly a firm scratch.

He rumbled affectionately and huffed, springing up to lick her face.

“Ah, how thoughtful,” she groaned, trying to slide away from her darling’s slavering tongue. “Now I won’t need a shower.”

“Oi, Stubby! Pancakes,” Vax called from the kitchen through her cracked bedroom door.

Trinket bounded off the bed and through the open door before she could so much as open her mouth.

“Not for you,” she shouted groggily as she struggled out of bed. She tugged her robe on over her nightgown, pulling her hair into a thick bun and already frowning at the amount of time it would take to wash out the excess amount of hairspray she’d unloaded on it last night to keep it in place. “Don’t feed him any—”

She broke off as she slouched into the main room. Vax had a pancake dangling over her dog’s open and panting mouth. “Don’t,” she warned, dropping her voice and giving the pair of them a stern look.

Vax beamed at her and promptly dropped the pancake.

“He’s not supposed to eat people food,” she whined, hurrying over and smacking Vax’s hand out of the way as he grabbed another pancake. “The vet said you were getting too big, munchkin. Only raw meat and some veggies for a while.”

Trinket sank onto the floor with a great sigh. He propped his head on his paws and stared up at her with wide, shining eyes.

“You’re a terrible mother,” Vax said solemnly.

“I am trying to ensure my child’s continued health. Also fuck you.”

“Aren’t we charming this morning?” Vax mussed her hair as she walked past him to get coffee. “Fancy penguin party go south last night?”

“No, actually, it went beautifully. Would you like to know why?”

“The mayor showed up naked and drunk?”

“The correct answer was, ‘You’re incredibly talented and capable, Vex’ahlia, and I am constantly in awe of your ability to con people out of their money.’ ” She cupped her coffee with both hands, closing her eyes and sighing as the smell snaked down her nostrils and settled the pounding buzz behind her forehead.

Vax hopped up onto the counter and grabbed a pancake for himself. He didn’t bother to put it on a plate, but squeezed syrup directly into his mouth before taking a large bite. He was already in his work clothes, long black hair tied back into a neat bun and looking positively put-together. The faded band shirt and khakis would always look strange to her. The image in her head of her brother hadn’t changed since they were teenagers and he’d worn more eyeliner than her and so much black leather he might have been fronting for a shitty punk band.

“I know that,” he mumbled around his food, “but I’d still like to see the mayor drunk and naked. That’s more entertaining than you just being good at things.”

Vex sipped her coffee as she watched him repeat the process with another bite. “Want a plate?”

“Why?” His brow lifted as he gave her a mush-filled grin.

“You’re delightful.”

“Eat. I made them myself.”

“Did you really?” She grabbed a plate and fork for herself and slid a few onto her plate. “Will wonders never cease?”

“I figure it’s about time I actually learn how to bake something. I’ve been working in a kitchen for the past year and still have fuck-all to show for it.”

Vax had settled nicely into his new life bussing tables and doing dishes in a moderately fancy Marquetian restaurant. After a youth spent picking pockets and breaking into stores just to say he could, he’d finally been caught and arrested a few years back. Vex had bought him the best lawyer money could buy and together they’d argued his sentence down to six months of community service, but she’d expected him to take more time getting over it. He’d only stopped needing to see his probation officer every week last month. It was odd, really—one day he was moping around her apartment playing video games and the next he’d found a job and a girlfriend and was mentoring some troubled kid from the local community club. And he was smiling. All the time. If she didn’t love him so damn much she might have found it irritating.

“They’re good,” she said after a few bites. He gave her a prime example of these wide, self-satisfied smiles, and she snorted. “I wouldn’t advise going into business on your own just yet, but they’re fluffy and not burnt, so I’d call them a success.”

“Thank you, thank you,” he grabbed a piece of her uneaten pancake, “and I will expect similar praise when I attempt cupcakes later.”

“Gods, brother, are you all right?” She leaned forward to press her hand against his forehead. “Your good mood better not be contagious.”

“Why can’t I be happy? Is there a rule that says neither of us can be happy at any given time?” He slid off the counter and tried to take a sip of her coffee, but she pulled it out of his reach. He was still smiling, but she could tell he was a bit embarrassed. Sheepish, maybe.

“Hey, I wasn’t—”

“No, I know, I’m just messing with you.” He opened the fridge only to come out with his mouth already on the carton of milk.

“Vax, you were not raised in the wilds. You know how to drink from a glass,” she said weakly, returning to her coffee and drinking deep, not minding that it was still a little too hot. The burn was nice and helped her to wake up. She’d gotten home at three that morning to find Trinket sprawled across the floor in front of the entryway. She was surprised Vax hadn’t woken up with all the thumping of his massive tail and whining she’d been treated to.

“You’re in a mood.”

She looked up to see him watching her, eyes sharp and scrutinizing, as always. Another side effect of his newfound love of life had been an increase in babying on his part. Always monitoring her mood, checking up on her—hovering. Using those three minutes of age he held over her to pull his big brother card. It was sweet, in an obnoxious sort of way. When it didn’t make her want to throttle him.

“I just woke up. Give me half an hour before you start your lecture.”

His brow creased, and his expression dropped into one she knew far too well. “Do I need to be lecturing you?”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she laughed, finishing her cup and pouring another. “Please, add a bit more judgement onto that concern. It’s not quite thick enough.”

“Vex’ahlia, this is the third time this week you’ve snuck home in the middle of the morning. And I’ve only been here four nights.”

“How am I sneaking into my own apartment, exactly? Unless we’ve expanded the definition of sneaking to include using a key.”

He studied her for a moment, and Vex had the uncomfortable sensation that she was staring into her mother’s eyes. At times like these, when he was being so stupidly sincere, it was hard not to see how much of their mother he’d gotten. Hard not to remember how little had passed on to her.

“He’s an asshole,” Vax murmured, his expression tightening.

“Stop.” Vex arched a brow at him. “Whom I sleep with is none of your concern.”

“It is when he’s an asshole.”

She let out a harsh laugh. “Shall we talk about your terrorist of a girlfriend, then?”

“Don’t be cruel,” he said with a deep frown. “She’s an environmental activist.”

“Working with an organization currently on the Emon Guard’s watchlist for attempting to obstruct a multi-billion dollar construction job.”

Vax crossed his arms, settling into his customary argument position. “They were going to level five square miles of forest to build a stadium complex. Outside city limits, by the way, so the Guard don’t have jurisdiction to enforce their strong-armed claim to the land. Land held by the United Ashari Tribal Council, by the way.”

Unease threaded through her mind as she took in his anger. “You’re not getting involved in that, are you?”

“What? Of course not.”

“I swear, Vax, if you—”

“I’m not stupid,” he snapped. “You think I’d involve myself in something that would violate my probation?”

“I think you’ve done worse for a pair of nice legs and pretty eyes.” Vex felt an immediate surge of guilt. _Too harsh_. She put her coffee down and took a breath. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant.” He was watching her with a hard kind of disappointment, brow furrowed and shaking his head slowly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you lately, Vex’ahlia, but this,” he gestured to her with a scowl, “ _pettiness_ isn’t like you. You’re—I don’t even know what you’re doing, honestly—but you’re messing around with some asshole who doesn’t give a shit about you. You’re spending time with all the people we used to hate and actually enjoying yourself. You’re judging other people just because you don’t know them. Honestly, it’s either the best con you’ve ever pulled or you’re starting to actually buy into this bullshit.”

“I have a job, Vax,” she snapped, knowing she should just stop the conversation and apologize, that he was right—at least about the attitude. She didn’t know what it was, but it was getting harder to interact with everyone, even him. Like all her patience and energy had vanished when she hadn’t been looking. But his holier-than-thou superiority was starting to make her feel like a child. “I have responsibilities. I’m very happy you’ve been able to ‘find yourself’ in all the free time you’ve had the past few years, but not all of us have the luxury of following our morals. Morals I didn’t know you _had_ , by the way. One of us had to grow up at some point and start making some money, you know. This apartment doesn’t pay for itself.”

“Yeah,” he said with an empty laugh, “you keep telling yourself that.” He practically threw the milk back into her fridge and turned away. “I’m gonna stay at Gilmore’s tonight so you can cool down.” He shot her a hard glance over his shoulder. “Unless you’d like to add something smart about him, too?”

She said nothing. She didn’t understand his situation with Gilmore anymore than she did his relationship with his girlfriend, but it wasn’t like Vax was offering her an explanation. He would tell her in time, when he’d figured it out himself. At least the man owned a successful business rather than stand on street corners and yell at passersby like that leggy redhead.

_That’s unfair_ , she told herself. She’d only met Keyleth twice, and even if she seemed like the most ridiculous cliché of a tree-hugger she could imagine, she seemed nice. She certainly was making Vax happy. That should have been enough. 

Vax’s expression fell somewhat, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know I’m only worried about you, right?”

Her chest constricted somewhat, and she let her eyes fall to the ground. “Yeah. I know.”

“Right. Well. I’ll butt out then. I just—want to make sure you’re happy, is all.”

She smiled ruefully. “Happiness is a myth sold to idiots at Winter’s Crest with the rest of those fake plastic decorations, brother. I don’t need to be happy.”

Vax frowned, but seemed to be thinking carefully about his next words. “Then what do you need?”

She opened her mouth to dismiss his question—she had everything she’d ever needed. Money, a job she was good at, an apartment she’d bought on her own. Notoriety. Class. Significance. What else could she need?

But the words got caught in her throat, and she just stared at him.

He looked as if he were about to step back to her, when he seemed to think better of it. Vex was grateful. If he’d hugged her right then, she might have started crying. _What the hell is the matter with me?_ she thought as she took a deep breath, plastering a smile onto her face.

“Cupcakes,” she said with a wink. “Whenever you decide you want to spend the night again. You know you’re always welcome.”

Vax didn’t smile. “I do, Stubby. And you know you can talk to me if you need to, right?”

“Of course,” she said with a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. “I’m fine, Vax. Honestly. Just tired.”

He stared at her, disbelieving. To her relief, he turned away again and bent to pick up his bag from the floor. A beat-up old duffle from their brief, but memorable, days of squatting in homeless shelters and soup kitchens, with patches of bands that were no longer playing and stitched thread fraying along the edges of the canvas. He gave Trinket’s fur one last ruffle on his way out, but paused before he opened the door. “Keyleth is having a party at her new apartment in a few weeks. She told me to invite you.”

Another pang of guilt. “That was nice of her.”

“I told her you’d probably be busy with work.”

It was true. She barely had any time to herself these days, with Saundor letting her take on more and more responsibility. “Text me the date and time. I’ll see if I can get it off.”

Vax nodded, though she could see in his eyes that he knew she was just saying it to be nice. Both of them knew the likelihood of her attending that kind of party was slim. _No one to schmooze and no one to trick. I’d have to be myself for a change._ The thought didn’t sit well with her.

He was gone before she could say anything else, slipping out in the time it took her to blink. She stared at the closed door for a while, idly leaning into Trinket when he padded over to her, sensing her discomfort.

The apartment itself was very nice, not a penthouse, but high up in a new, state of the art building. One of Saundor’s clients had kept a spot open for her after she’d left a good impression, and the second she’d saved up enough, she’d bought it. The walls were a pristine white and covered in elegant artwork she’d curated herself. Pieces from the most talked-about artists in Emon, all exclusive, all sleek, all modern. Her appliances were new, her floors were polished dark wood, and her large, floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the city skyline with an unobstructed view of the Cloudtop District.

She was where she’d been fighting to be her entire life. Self-sufficient and successful, working for one of the most influential people in the capital of Tal’dorei. Firmly standing on her own two feet without her father’s shadow hovering over her shoulders, making her feel small—making her feel weak.

Vax couldn’t see that. He’d never felt the dread of wondering where their next meal was going to come from, or where they might sleep for the night. He had always been flitting from one shadow to the next, uncaring and unattached, while she made sure they’d survive until the next sunrise. Free, like she’d never been. Not since their mother had died.

Of course he didn’t understand her life now. He might have found happiness by stumbling blindly into whatever crossed his path, but she had needed to cultivate it slowly. To piece it together and hoard it like a jealous dragon so that no one, _no one_ , could take it away from her again. Her happiness was the seven figures in her bank account, the 401k growing steadily larger, her stock portfolio, her international investments. 

Vax, her dear, daring brother, who had always stolen whatever he needed, from fate or someone else, would never understand the fear of losing that freedom she’d fought and clawed for her whole life.

She finally looked down at Trinket and sighed. “Those big eyes aren’t going to work on me, handsome.” She grinned at his disappointed whine. “Come on, you. Let’s go for a jaunt around the block, hm? And then we’ll give you a bath, you stinky beast.”

Vex went through the motions of slipping into semi-decent clothes, choosing the biggest and most opaque sunglasses she could find to hide her dark circles and smeared mascara. The sun was bright and the day was gorgeous, leaves trailing down around her in the gentle breeze as they walked around the gentrified park that still had gaps where the strips of grass hadn’t yet grown to the curb.

She tried to dispel the nagging thought that something was wrong, that something had been wrong for a while now. Hadn’t she felt the same way last night? But no matter how much she tried to distract herself with thinking about the handsome stranger on the roof who had made her forget her problems for one glorious moment of—

_What had he said?_ she thought with a smile. _Revelation?_

—she was unable to get her brother’s expression of disappointment and concern out of her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trinket is for sure a Saint Bernard in my head, btw. I mean, look at this bub:  
> 


	5. such fantastic beasts, roaming city streets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Rousseau" by Nerina Pallot](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-nNGNhZkrE&index=6&list=PLYYP1CurSOrRBpTbMNMV9mExnpViKOJ0C&t=0s)

Percy stared down at the potted plant with petals nearly the size of his hand, trying in vain to summon a bit of enthusiasm. “It looks—orange.”

“It’s wild, right?” Keyleth asked with a large smile, teeth flashing in her enthusiasm. “It’s a new brand of lily the scientists over at the Alabaster Lyceum developed last year. They’ve only been able to grow it in highly-controlled environments and in very small boxes before. I mean, they obviously wanted to make sure it wasn’t invasive to the rest of the lily population, but you should have seen the tiny things. They were so cute! But look at this!” She gestured wildly, fingers covered in dirt.

“I am,” he mused, stepping out of the way as she turned with a flourish and nearly smacked him across the face. “It’s quite large.”

“I know,” Keyleth gushed, circling around the flower and heaving the pot back onto the shelf with the rest of its family. “I swear, you could have knocked me over with a feather the first time I came in and saw it growing out of the pot it used to be in. Crowding around all the others, getting too big for its britches.” She giggled. “Trying to make a run for it, I think.”

“What is it called?” Percy asked as Keyleth pushed her tangled mass of hair back from her face, dirt streaked across her forehead.

“They didn’t give it a name, can you believe that?” She frowned. “Or—I guess they did, but it’s some long Celestial thing I can’t remember.”

“Perhaps you should name it.”

“You think I can?” she asked with a beaming smile, exhaling as she tilted her head. “I’ve been playing around with a few—I really like ‘Faerie Fire.’ Or ‘Ashari Sunset.’ But obviously that one’s a bit obscure. Most people wouldn’t know the difference between an Ashari sunset and any other sunset.”

Percy grinned and watched his friend bustle through the rows of plants, gangly limbs maneuvering around flowers and ferns and small trees without grace. “Is there a difference?”

“Of course there’s a difference. You think you can see a real sunset with all this smog?” Her voice grew sharp and reedy, a sign of her annoyance. “Most people would go mad if they saw a real sunset. Cities make everything worse.”

“No, no, tell me your real opinion.” It was rather adorable when Keyleth launched into her diatribes about the horrors of city life. He agreed with her, of course. He’d grown up in Whitestone, the most beautiful place in all of Tal’dorei. He’d never mention it, but he would bet all his considerable wealth that the sunset over the Alabaster Sierras would put Keyleth’s to shame any day.

But he didn’t say that. Because he didn’t talk about Whitestone.

She opened her mouth as she turned back to him, ready to launch into a long-winded explanation, before she caught sight of his grin. “You’re teasing me,” she said flatly.

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed.”

She sighed and slumped behind her little table at the back of the greenhouse, the entire surface covered in notes and pieces of crumpled paper, broken ceramic pots and dirt, pencils and what looked like scattered chunks of granola.

“I can come back another day,” he started, seeing the fatigue in the slump of her shoulders, “if you’re busy—”

“No,” she practically shouted, bounding up from her chair again, eyes purposefully wide, “we are going to lunch. I am not busy.”

“You look busy.”

“Well—I am, but not that busy. Plus,” she turned a sharp, needling look on him that made Percy’s good humor flag, “I know you’ll just make me wait another month until you find time for me.” He knew that expression. It was an expression that meant his chatty, bubbly friend was about to become serious and overly sincere.

“Keyleth, it’s not—”

“I’m not lecturing you, Percy, but I’m not letting you sneak off to your workshop again. Not yet. How long has it been since you’ve actually seen a friend?”

His brow furrowed, thinking in discomfort that he didn’t have many friends, not like Keyleth. He supposed the mad delivery man who brought him supplies every few days could count as a kind of friend, if one were being very lenient with the term. He was entertaining, at least.

“That’s what I thought.” Keyleth folded her arms, a smug smile twisting her lips. “We’re having a friend day today. You’re going to have fun, damn it, and that’s that.”

Percy nodded toward the dirt still smudged on her face. “You might want to wash your face before we embark on this grand adventure of yours. Unless that’s a new style you’re trying out.”

Her smile dropped, nearly making him laugh. There was something so damn refreshing about Keyleth’s complete openness with her emotions, the lack of any pretext or subterfuge. She was just—reacting. It was nice.

“What do you mean?” Her eyes got wide as her hand drifted to her face.

“Go to the bathroom,” he laughed, ushering her to the back of the greenhouse. “I promise not to disappear.”

Her eyes narrowed, and once again Percy felt like a deer caught in the gaze of a large tiger, but then she frowned and turned away. “All right, but I’m not above chasing after you and tackling you to the ground.”

Percy’s smile lingered as he watched Keyleth go, struck, as he always was by how quickly he’d grown attached to her. They’d only met a few months ago—or… Well, now that he was thinking about it, they’d met nearly a year ago last October.

He’d just returned from a long trip overseas to Marquet, lecturing at a conference about some of the things he was working on for improved storage containment of volatile weapons components, when he found a note tacked to the door of his apartment.

_Go to the animal shelter on 5th and Sterling. Talk to the redhead. ~ C_

For a moment, he’d struggled with the terror of thinking his sister had been in town and he’d somehow missed her, but then he saw that the letter had been written in another hand, that of his doorman. Cassandra had called and asked him to leave a note, apparently. Percy had spent a few days fighting himself over the urge to ignore it entirely, to pass it off like he had never gotten her message. It was entirely his sister’s style to pull his puppet strings even from across the ocean. He didn’t hate her for it, even if it made his life somewhat difficult at times. He did what she wanted, for the most part. He couldn’t exactly refuse her in anything, not if she pressed him. Which is why he spent most of his time avoiding her calls and text messages.

But in the end, he’d worked up the courage to visit the animal shelter in question, to ask awkwardly for ‘the redhead.’ He’d felt like such a fool, until a woman with bright orange hair and freckles had jumped in front of him, pulled him into a hug, and shouted, “You’re _Percy!_  I thought you’d _died_ , I was expecting you weeks ago!”

He’d blinked, gaped at her like a fish, before being towed to the back of the shelter and shoved into a small room with a table and chairs. He’d thought for a moment that his mind had finally collapsed in on itself and he was living out some sort of Lynchian nightmare, before the woman returned with a large black cat in her arms, which she promptly held out to him and gushed, “Meet your new life-partner!”

He had eventually learned that Cassandra had called ahead and adopted a cat in his name and that this woman, Keyleth, had been only too happy to help Percy learn how to care for the creature. For his part, he’d thought about refusing, but the whirlwind that was Keyleth and the utter confusion with which the cat had been placed in his care had made it hard for him to string more than a few sentences together that day.

That first night with the cat, after Keyleth had left, had been the oddest of his life—just sitting in the darkness of his apartment, staring at each other. But Keyleth had returned the next day. And the day after that. And every day for the next two weeks, stubbornly and patiently teaching him to care for it. After a while, he’d just… gotten used to her. She’d seemed to have decided he was, ironically, her new pet project, and he found himself dragged to parks and rallies and bubble tea shops. At some point, without him realizing, she’d become his friend. His best friend, really.

Thinking about it now, he found himself remarkably glad for Cassandra’s intervention and divination. And she wondered why he called her Little Prophet.

He peered around the greenhouse, distracting himself by reading the tags attached to the various plants. He tugged at the collar of his coat, sweating in the artificial heat pumped in to keep the greenery alive. Keyleth, as a volunteer gardener of the Emon Zoo and Conservatory, worked long hours for no pay, even though he knew she was the most qualified person to ever set foot in this greenhouse. One of the drawbacks of not having an actual college degree, but no matter how much Percy advised her to buckle down for a few years and get herself an official piece of paper so she could start working in places that might actually deserve her talent, she wasn’t bothered.

He was fond of Keyleth, but he would never understand her complete lack of concern where her career was concerned. She was content to bounce from place to place, helping where she was needed, all with the knowledge that one day, she would return to her people for good and live out the rest of her life as a public servant to the Air Ashari, like her father and mother before her. He’d started to realize that, however much she skirted around the issue, his gangly, toothy, brilliant friend was something like a princess in her tribe. A fact she had loudly and vehemently shot down the day he’d brought it up.

He was about to shrug off his jacket entirely, when she slammed the door to the back room open and pushed through a cluster of ferns to hop toward him. Her hair was still wild, but she had pulled it back with a headband and was now wearing her faux-fur white tiger coat, face clear of dirt.

“To the cat café!” she called, grabbing his arm and dragging him through the greenhouse and out into the chill autumn air.

He bit back his automatic distaste, and let her pull him along, knowing his discomfort was entirely the point of today’s outing. To push him outside his normal routine and shake up his life a bit, or so she told him. Cassandra would be so smug to hear he was getting along well with the madwoman she’d foisted upon him for his own good.

They walked the few blocks through the Cloudtop District, Keyleth launching into a story about her new boyfriend. Percy kept his mouth shut for the most part, except to offer some mildly-veiled hints here and there that perhaps dating an ex-con wasn’t the smartest idea for someone of her… background.

Although, who was he to judge? Stealing from a few unlucky idiots wasn’t nearly as bad as the things he’d done.

To Percy’s immense relief, the cat café in question was full for at least another hour, and Keyleth’s free time only stretched so far. They settled for a small restaurant-slash-health store on the corner of one of the quieter streets, an obnoxiously holistic place where they served smoothies in disturbingly bright colors and included hummus with everything.

He was half-way through his turkey wrap, one of the safer options in a menu so inundated with tags describing the various health benefits of each dish, when he looked up to find Keyleth staring at him with steady eyes, a slight furrow in her brow, and pursed lips.

“Why are you staring at me like I just ate your cat?”

She grimaced and reeled back. “Gods, Percy, that’s—”

He let her work out her disgust, content to wait as long as he could for whatever was building behind that expression.

“How is work?”

“Whose work? Your work? I should think you’d know better than I.”

“You’re hilarious.”

He grinned, sipping from the most caffeinated drink he’d been able to find on the menu, some iced green tea that tasted of toothpaste and grass. It was not doing much for the slow thudding between his brows. “That means so much coming from you.”

“Can you not be an asshole for like two seconds?”

“I can try, but it hasn’t worked out for me so far.” Her face hardened and he felt his grin sag. _So damn sincere._ “Work is, as it has always been, a study in how far my patience can hold out against my better angels.”

She hummed, still watching him with overly bright eyes. “I saw that Orthax is merging with a manufacturing firm from Wildmount.”

His fingers clenched reflexively around his drink. Exhaling slowly, he settled both hands in his lap and schooled his expression into one of cool disinterest. “And where did you see that?”

“In the paper,” she said sourly. “Is that so surprising?”

“No one reads the newspaper anymore, Keyleth. So yes, it is a bit odd.”

“Percy—”

“It was only finalized a week ago, so we’re still figuring out the logistics, of course. But it should mean increased production and easier access to the materials I need. It’s a smart move on Orthax’s part.” He looked up then, and found her staring at him with a frown. “Were you expecting something laced with intrigue?” He laughed, pleased to find that it didn’t sound forced. “I don’t tell you about my work because it’s boring. I’d much rather hear you talk about some trees you saved from the jaws of industrial deforestation.”

She tensed, shooting a frightened glance around the shop, as if the Emon Guard had been lurking behind the yoga mats in the corner of the little shop attached to the café, waiting to spring. “I—I didn’t think it was exciting. I just…” Her face fell and she shook her head, still piercing him with those ridiculously large hazel eyes. “I don’t know. I feel like we don’t talk about you enough.”

A pang of guilt shot through his chest. Did she have to be so damn compassionate all the time? “I’d much prefer it that way, you know.”

“I do know,” she scowled, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair, “which is why I think it’s more important that I force you every once in a while. I don’t know, Percy. I worry about you sometimes. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, but I feel like you’re going to go mad shut up in that workshop of yours, never talking about what you do, how you feel about it.” She exhaled in frustration. “You know, I still don’t know what you actually _do_.”

“You don’t want to know what I do,” he murmured, trying to keep his voice light. “Trust me.”

She looked as if she were about to argue that point, when her watch buzzed and flashed with a brilliant green light. “Oh, crap,” she muttered, face scrunching up in alarm. “I’m going to be late.”

“The animal clinic?”

She shook her head and whispered, “ _Meeting_.” She said the word with another furtive glance around the shop, voice too loud, and with as much subtlety as a gorilla learning how to speak. In addition to all her other jobs about town, Keyleth was involved in a small, but effective, environmental activist group that was currently causing the city planning board something of a headache.

Percy grinned. He’d been the one to encourage her into it in the first place when she was waffling at the start of their friendship. If _he_ couldn’t play rebel, he could certainly live vicariously through her. “Go on. I’ll pay.”

“No, I can—,” she started, rooting through her large canvas bag, a large apple tree painted on the front.

“I insist.”

She looked up with a grateful smile, flickering only for a second between what he assumed was a desire to remain and finish their conversation. “Thank you, Percy. I’ll text you about my party. Two weeks. Remember.”

He nodded absently as she sprang up and lunged across the table, giving him a forceful peck on the cheek and making her way awkwardly through the crowded restaurant.

Flagging down the waiter took more time than he would have liked, leaving him to sit with the echo of her words.

It was true that he didn’t like to talk about himself. Mostly because every conversation led back to his job, why he spent his time making things that could kill people, how he’d gotten involved in the first place. All roads led to that first, most crucial moment when he’d finally decided to put his mind to use on something more than daydreaming. And the fewer people who knew what he really was, the better. It was bad enough Cassandra knew, that Ripley had guessed. Every piece of him was honed into keeping that monster locked away, and the more he talked about it, the easier it was for it to break free and consume him. Keyleth wouldn’t understand that. No one would.

He finally divested himself of the heath foods store and walked aimlessly through the Cloudtop District, trying to clear his mind. His fingers itched to pull a cigarette out of his pocket, but he was trying to cut back, however futile that attempt usually turned out to be. Glancing over the crowded street, full of bankers and consultants and lawyers, feeding the typical milieu of Emon’s financial district, he caught sight of a gleaming bronze building topped with a familiar sign. Almost in answer, his right temple gave a nasty twinge of pain, and he moved without thought in the direction of the Starbucks mermaid.

He didn’t spend much time in the Cloudtop District, preferring to stick to his borough, still blessedly quiet and largely un-gentrified. Plus the coffee at the small Marquetian deli at the end of his block was leagues better than the brown acid he was about to drink. But espresso was espresso, and it would at least help him concentrate on something as he walked back to his workshop.

The shop was packed with men and women in sharp business suits, holding briefcases and speaking sharply into their smartphones. He fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose as he stepped into line behind a woman in a grey pantsuit, lips drawn so large she looked like a cartoon, clutching a pink phone to her ear and screaming at some poor man named Harold for failing to fax “his numbers” to her before their meeting that morning.

Percy made sure to generously tip the barista, a young woman who looked like she might start throwing scalding water over the lot of them in a fit of pyrrhic rage, and turned to find a spot where he could wait for his americano far from the woman now glaring at the barista and tapping her heels impatiently.

Only to freeze as his eyes slid over the crowded store, inexplicably drawn to a woman sitting in the far corner.

Staring out at the street through the window, cup held halfway to her lips, she wore a simple black dress and a single silver band around her left wrist. Her black hair was swept up into a smart bun, and her lips were painted a shade darker than her golden skin. He might have mistaken her for any of the other people milling around the coffee shop, if not for the subtlety in her posture, the slight tilt of her hand as she tipped her cup upwards, watching the street with a huntress’ unerring gaze as if waiting for something, or someone, to pass by.

His mind skipped over the recognition, still half-convinced he’d imagined the whole interaction a little over a week ago.

But it was her.

The woman from the roof.


	6. oh, reckless abandon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Sweet Disposition" by Temper Trap](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jxKjOOR9sPU&list=PLYYP1CurSOrRBpTbMNMV9mExnpViKOJ0C&index=7&t=0s)

Vex’s coffee was too sweet. Her usual barista was gone, a sweet young thing named Milo who was half in love with her and made the best breves in town—or at least at the Starbucks on the ground floor of the building where Saundor conducted most of his business. 

She’d repeated her order a few times, a frightfully specific thing, but the girls working today had been too swamped to get it right. She didn't hold it against them. Three years scraping and clawing for any job that would take her, trying to feed herself and her brother and, eventually, Trinket, made her fully appreciate how easy it was to slip on a stranger’s drink order. She had more than enough sympathy to spare. 

And judging by the noises currently coming from the bar, they had their hands full. 

Her phone buzzed and she looked down, grinning as she saw a message written almost entirely in emojis, which she thought translated roughly to— _I am playing at Yenk’s tonight. Kaylie is going to be there with DD and the gang. If you do not come, I will show up later, drunk off my ass and crying about how awkward it was to sit with my daughter alone. I will require consoling. Bodily comfort. A bit of light petting._

She typed out her reply while shaking her head.

 

 _1:29 PM_ **  
** what happened to pike and grog?  
—  
also, charming

 

 _ **Scanlan.** 1:29 PM_ **  
** pike has the night shift and grog is “training”  
—  
i didn’t ask

 

 _1:29 PM **  
** _ one drink. and you should get to know your daughter, asshole

 

Scanlan sent her a string of poop emojis that she took to mean his begrudging agreement. 

Her friendship with the older man had been the oddest thing to come of her time on the streets. After fleeing Syngorn and arriving in Emon with a pocket of stolen money, one day she and Vax had known no one and been quite literally pinching pennies to survive, the next, they were sleeping in the back of an old jazz club and bussing tables. All because a small, devilishly handsome man had caught Vax trying to steal from him and decided to give them a chance rather than call the cops. Vax still got arrested eventually, but that was years later, after Vex had conned her way into school and Scanlan had lost his club in a drug deal gone south. Her people, criminals and scoundrels all. 

Vex rolled her neck, wincing slightly as pain twinged along her spine. She’d been sleeping badly the past few nights, getting only a few hours at most. She was working on a new contract with General Krieg, the pig she’d roped into a deal with Saundor at the mayor's ball last week. The man might be handsome, but he was quick to anger and quicker with his hands. It was a wonder she hadn’t broken his nose yet. 

Downing the last of her coffee and wiping her napkin across the table to clear up the ring of condensation her cup had left, she sighed. She’d need to get back soon if she was going to skip out on Saundor for Scanlan tonight. _Not looking forward to that conversation_. 

She uncrossed her legs and stood, glancing around for the trash, only to step on someone’s foot. 

“Oh,” she gasped, reaching out instinctively as she teetered to the side. 

She hadn’t noticed the man standing so close, in a worn navy coat and scuffed leather shoes—though, the coffee shop was full. It was probably the only place he _could_ stand. She let out a breathy laugh, gripping his arm as she threw him her best smile. “I’m sorry, dear—”

The words died on her lips. The banging and hissing of the baristas at the espresso bar and the frenzy of conversation in the tiny, packed shop faded to a dull hum. Time slowed and she felt herself drift up, up, blown back by her own stark surprise.

Standing less than a foot away from her, one hand at the small of her back and the other holding her shoulder—was her mystery man. 

_Oh gods, I’ve gone mad_. 

She hadn’t meant to be thinking about him so much the past few days. She’d tried very hard not to, in fact, but he seemed to slip in whenever she let her guard down. The shock of tousled white hair, the sharp, aquiline features, the intense grey eyes… It was an enticing picture, a lovely distraction in what had proven to be a rather dismal week. 

And now her mind was conjuring his face on random strangers she embraced in coffee shops. 

She blinked to rid herself of the fantasy—but it didn’t change. He had the same, impossible face, lips parted in surprise, glasses perched on the edge of his nose, brow furrowed deep in confusion and unbridled excitement. 

“ _Hi_ ,” he breathed. 

Vex had the uncanny feeling that, if not for her hand gripping his arm and the edge of the table cutting into her ass, the ground might have vanished beneath her. 

“Ah,” he muttered, taking a step back and pulling her upright with him. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to—” He cleared his throat, red splotches breaking out on the pale angle of his cheeks, under the stubble on his neck.

“Well. Hello there,” she finally managed, realizing with a jolt that her hand was squeezing his upper arm. It was rather firm. Distractingly so.

“Hi,” he repeated.

Her grin was slow as her body finally caught up with her mind. Heat blossomed over her chest and a stirring pulse echoed at the base of her spine. She felt—bubbly, ethereal, borne up on the wind like some twisting kite. His hand was still hovering over her hip, as if he were afraid she might still be in danger of falling. 

“You said that already.”

His brow smoothed, a disbelieving smile tugged at his lips. “So I did.”

“Are you stalking me now?” she asked, voice unsteady. _He’s actually here. Oh. Fuck._ “Do I need to be worried?”

“No to the first.” 

She laughed, giddiness thrumming in her chest. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You should.” It sounded like a warning, but he was still smiling, and her mind could only focus on one thing at a time. 

In the full brightness of day, he was, somehow, _more_ handsome. Where his counterpart on the roof had been severe and blurred at the same time, a study in harsh lines and shadow, he looked now like some sort of rugged adventurer-slash-scientist from her ratty, embarrassing romance novels. Like Indiana Jones, when he wore his professorial tweed and glasses. His hair was the same, though—shaggy and slightly curled around his ears, a darker white than it had looked in the harsh light of the rooftop. Streaks of charcoal and grey cut through his temples. Perpetually bed-tousled. Soft. Presumably.

His skin was pale, a bit unhealthy, with dark circles under his eyes, but right now he looked like a man who’d never before seen the sun. He was practically glowing.

“Are you—,” she started, utterly lost for words. He was here. He was _here_ , in her office building, at her Starbucks, of the probable thousands in Emon. Gods alive, he was _here._ “Do you come here often?”

She winced. _Good lord,_ she could do better than that. 

He exhaled a laugh, tried to take another step back, only to nearly tip over a tower of mugs advertising Starbucks’ new Winter’s Crest line. 

At least she wasn’t the only one stumbling about like a newborn foal. 

“No, no, not ever, I don’t think. I’m not a Starbucks man.”

Her brow arched, and she felt steadier on her feet as she watched him scramble. “Allergic to coffee?”

“Coffee? No. _This_ coffee?” He blinked. “It’s just not very good, is it?”

Laughter broke through her lips. “We see each other again, miraculously, in the span of one week and the first thing you do is insult my favorite coffee shop?”

A pause. His lips pulled into a stupid, lovely grin. “Apparently.” A crease formed in his brow. “That was a joke, right? You don’t actually like this swill?”

“You’ve gotten worse at this.” She gestured between them, also grinning like an idiot.

“Undoubtedly. It’s probably something to do with the fact that I still think I’ve gone mad.”

“Again with the thinking I’m a figment of your imagination. A girl might get ideas.”

He didn’t respond, and she felt the full weight of his gaze in the silence. His eyes were bright, and fixed, the kind of eyes that might look cold, or sharp, if one wasn’t looking hard enough. Behind his glasses, they shone like silver and grey flint, raw and flashing. But there was an eagerness to their shine, an effervescence that felt like freshly-popped champagne and a brisk autumn night. 

“Seriously,” she murmured, chest warming so thoroughly she was sure she'd start breaking out in hives, “I come to this coffee shop every day and I’ve never seen you here.”

“I was in the neighborhood and this was the only thing I could find.” He shrugged, though the effect was anything but casual, more like a frenetic twitch of his shoulders. Again, that laser focus. “You come here every day?”

“Ideas,” she warned, half-heartedly.

He laughed. It was a high, aristocratic laugh, and might have been pompous if not for the breathy, ragged edge to it. “Believe me, I’m well past ideas. Firmly in the realm of plotting.”

“So, we’re both real, as far as we can tell,” she said, drinking in his expression, memorizing it, in case he suddenly vanished. For all her teasing, she was still half-convinced she’d fallen asleep in her coffee cup. “And we’re in the same place.” _And you’re just as gorgeous and adorable as you were on the rooftop_ , she added silently. 

“It appears so,” he murmured, eyes wide as his smile turned into a small, anticipatory thing. 

And they both fell into silence again. 

Why, _why_ did she have to lose all of her wits in the presence of this stranger, of all people? She was too old, and too jaded to feel like butterflies were dancing a waltz in her stomach, too busy to want to push him into the seat next to her and stare at him for the next two hours just to make sure he wasn’t an illusion. 

A momentary revelation. 

Sure enough, her phone buzzed in her hand, and she grimaced. She didn’t have to look to see who it would be. She was already late for her meeting with Saundor and Krieg. 

And the universe, it seemed, was not above petty meddling, because as she opened her mouth to ask him his name, to get _something_ she could take with her before he once again disappeared into the tangle of Emon and her silly daydreams, a shrill voice broke into their tenuous silence. 

“Your _coffee_?”

He blinked rapidly and turned around, eyes flashing with confusion as they both stared at a woman with ridiculous beige lips and a phone in a pink cat case. 

“What do you want?” he asked, voice clipped. 

Vex bit the inside of her cheek, half-furious with the woman, a regular and a terror on expensive heels when her drink order was even slightly wrong, half-relieved. 

Relieved of what, she didn’t know, but she could breathe again. 

Another buzz of her phone. 

Her mystery man was staring in mild fury at the woman, complaining about something inane, while the barista explained in a dead, monotone voice, that she had taken the wrong drink. 

“Well, I certainly didn’t order this. It’s _green_ ,” he said with a look at Vex over his shoulder, as if making sure she was still there. 

Usually, she’d offer to help smooth things over, but another buzz of her phone, this one seeming more violent somehow than the last, made her sigh in frustration. 

On a mad, desperate streak of courage, she uncrumpled her semi-wet napkin from her hand and pulled out a pen from her clutch. Writing her number before she could stop herself, she straightened to find the woman with the wrong drink nearly spitting in her fury. _Some people_ , she thought in distaste. 

Her mystery man seemed just as perplexed as she was, any anger having faded to a strange, sick fascination, as if watching an animal try to chew its own foot off.

Vex took a breath, met his eyes, and moved forward to slip the napkin into his pocket. 

He seemed torn between the other woman and the chaos in the coffee shop around them, for a moment just standing in shock as she slid her hand down the back of his and into the folds of his jacket.

It was silly, and stupid, but Vex could have sworn sparks danced between their skin as she left her napkin, that she could feel his shaky breath on her cheek. 

With nothing but a small wink, she turned on her heel.

She left, shooting the baristas an apologetic smile, as it appeared Miss Drab Pantsuit was only ramping up into a tirade. She didn’t look back at her mystery man as she slipped through the crowded coffee shop, into the lobby of the building, and waved a free hand at the security guard, who recognized her at once and let her through. She didn’t look back as she entered the elevator, and pressed her floor. 

Only once the doors were closed and she was alone did she let herself melt into the wall. 

“I’m _twelve_ ,” she breathed, laughing, hysterical. Heart pounding in her chest as if she’d just ran into the elevator rather than walk, in a totally normal and not at all rushed manner. “Gods damn it, I’m a fucking teenager.”

Maybe it was the fantasy of it all, the sheer, ridiculous serendipity of running into him again, but she felt weightless, humming. Like she was drifting on a cloud of unicorn piss. 

One more deep breath, three more seconds of forcing herself to be calm. 

He was just a man. A gorgeous, possibly sleep-deprived, definitely pompous in an endearing way, _real-life_ man.

And now he had her number.

She quickly turned off the vibration on her phone and slipped it into her clutch. 

No messages yet. Maybe he wouldn’t text her. She had, after all, ditched him and left him to the mercy of the coffee shop he loathed. 

_He’s a coffee snob_ , she thought with a smile as she smoothed her dress and tucked her hair behind her ears, mentally preparing for another meeting of Krieg’s bullshit. _Of course he’s a coffee snob._

Saundor gave her a long look, but said nothing as she breezed in and made excuses for her tardiness. A flash of teeth and a slow blink was all it took to get Krieg smiling, along with his assorted investment group. 

Vex smoothed a hand over Saundor’s back, noting with frustration the hard set of his jaw, the dangerous focus in his eyes. 

_One thing at a time_. 

The meeting went smoothly, as she knew it would. There was a reason Saundor liked her, and no matter how late she showed up and how much she loathed her clients, she always got the job done. In this case, at a higher interest rate than even _he_ had initially thought her capable of. 

Her day went fast, as it always did, and Vex found her eyes wandering toward her clutch, shut in the bottom drawer of her desk as she coordinated gala events, stock portfolios, and potential clients, spinning them around her finger like flies in her tidy web. 

She didn’t look at her phone as she sped home, luckily missing Saundor on her way out, who would have insisted she spend the evening with him. She didn’t look at her phone as she changed into something more comfortable. She didn’t even look at her phone to give Scanlan a head’s up that she would be late. 

No, she was doing very well all through his set, chatting casually with Kaylie, a charming, if… abrasive young girl who’d gotten all Scanlan’s cleverness and none of his elusive tact. She even spent an entire hour listening to Doctor Dranzel wax poetic about his pilgrimage through Wildmount’s seediest clubs. All without once checking her phone.

“You got an itch you need scratched?” Scanlan asked at the end of the night after his daughter had left, leaning back in his chair and nursing some ridiculous purple concoction of his own making which he liked to call Bigby’s Hand. It had yet to catch on at all of his frequent haunts, for some mysterious reason. 

“Excuse me?” Vex arched one brow at him. “Is that a euphemism for something?”

Scanlan flashed her a wide, cheshire smile, singular pearl earring glinting in the reflected light of his technicolor vest. “Always. But seriously, you look like you forgot to put on your lady cream this morning or something.” He ignored her grunt of disgust and fixed her with a half-lidded stare. “You’re too twitchy.”

“Have you suddenly become interested in my personal problems? How refreshing.”

“Stop dodging.” He spread his arms wide and tilted his head. “Lay your problems on me. I am a font of perennial wisdom.”

She sighed, casting her gaze around the near empty club. It wasn’t as good as the one he used to own, which had had a cozy, secret quality to it. This was just old and dirty, with creaky chairs and tables that smelled a bit like old beef. 

“It’s nothing. Really.”

“You cannot lie to me, Vex’ahlia, child. I see through your—”

“You are not that much older than I am.”

“I am remarkably well-preserved.”

“Debatable.”

“So cruel, to your sad, ancient friend.” He mimed wiping a tear away from his cheek, lips quivering.

“If you must know, it’s a boy,” she finally said, if only to stop the theatrics. Scanlan was better cut off before he could indulge in his vast dramatic skill. 

His eyes widened and he leaned forward, chair legs barking on the floor as they came down. “A _boy?_  Jesus, did someone ask you to the prom? Try to feel you up in a movie theater?”

“Remember when I did you a favor and played interference with your daughter just now? Maybe you’d like me to call her back in and tell her all about that time I had to fish you out of a sewer with no—”

“Fine, fine,” he brushed her off, scowling as the amusement died in his eyes. “You ditch that creepy boss of yours, then?”

Something hard and shallow lodged itself in her spine, and she took a sip of her drink to dislodge it. “No, I didn’t. And he’s not creepy.”

“He is.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

She rolled her eyes. “You sound like Vax.”

Vex hadn’t seen her brother much that week. He’d visited Trinket a few times, brought her the cupcakes he’d promised, which were, to her surprise, actually quite good. But there had been no mention of their fight. It hung like a weight in her mind, and the longer she let it fester, the more she would hate herself. They didn’t do shit like this, tiptoe around each other and refuse to talk about their issues.

Even if her issues were more complex than he was used to. 

Scanlan eyed her closely, that showy facade fading to the man she’d begrudgingly come to love over the past few years. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“All right.”

And just like that, he let it go. Scanlan Shorthalt was many things, but he could be downright sweet when he wanted to be. 

Vex smiled as her affection for him swelled. “You did well tonight. Not with the music. Obviously you were amazing, as usual, but with Kaylie. You got through a whole hour without once breaking into hysterics.”

He groaned and sagged further into his chair, taking a long, final sip from his drink. “I don’t know how I’m going to be able to keep up, Vex. There are so many _things_. I didn’t do half the shit she does when I was her age. I just went to school and busked like a normal kid. She’s got scholarships and calculus and something called AP tests which may or may not be something congenital and I sure as hell don't have the health insurance for that.”

Vex grinned. “You’re lucky she didn’t inherit your brains, then, or you might need to get her a tutor. She’s smarter than you, Scanlan. She doesn’t need a teacher, she needs a father.”

Scanlan stared at his empty glass, a hollow, brittle look coming into his eyes. “Poor kid.”

“No, no, no,” Vex began, leaning over the table and smacking his hand away before he could raise it for the waitress. “This is your last drink and I am taking you home. Don’t fuck up a perfectly good night by getting trashed and texting Kaylie a stream of incoherent emojis.”

“Thank you, Vex,” he murmured as they went out into the cold evening air, leaving his friends to their night of mayhem. “Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She smiled down at him. “Of course, dear. That’s what family’s for.”

When she was alone in their taxi, asking the driver to wait until he’d made it into his building out of habit, she closed her eyes. 

It had been a nice night. A bit awkward, but nice. Scanlan’s old friends were a handful, but they seemed decent enough people. As long as she didn’t invite them into her apartment to steal her expensive, lovely things, she was happy to spend a few hours with them every once in awhile. 

And she’d long ago determined to ensure that Scanlan rebuilt his relationship with his daughter. It might be pushy, and not her business, and maybe motivated out of her own selfish desire to see it work, but she would do everything in her power to help her friend. He deserved to be happy. They both did. 

Mind wrapped up in bitter memories of her own father, she nearly forgot about her phone and its significance until she was brushing her teeth. She was in the middle of deciding to set her alarm an hour early the next day, feeling guilty for not having time to take Trinket on a walk before rushing off to the club, when her hand froze, and she moved into the kitchen to stare at her clutch, sitting innocuously on the middle island. 

Toothpaste leaked out the side of her mouth and she swore, hopping back into the bathroom to finish before practically lunging for her phone. 

The little green light blinked in the upper lefthand corner. Nerves surged into her throat and she swallowed, jiggling her knee against the bar, fighting the urge to hop up and down. 

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered as Trinket padded up to her and leaned fully against her leg. “Ridiculous. He probably didn’t even text, right, buddy?”

He only huffed in reply, thoroughly disinterested in whatever she was doing. 

It took her another moment, fighting some strange battle within herself that could not, for some reason, bear the idea of knowing either way if her mystery man had texted or not. _Schrodinger’s text_ , she thought, frowning down at her phone, until finally she just swiped her damn screen. 

And exhaled in relief. 

Twelve unread text messages. Three were from Saundor, asking her why she was late. One from Scanlan, comprised of a water gun and a crying face. 

The rest…

 

 _ **Unknown number**. 11:08 AM_  
That’s the second time you’ve disappeared on me. You don’t by chance ride around in a pumpkin? It would explain a lot.  
—  
That, or you’re dead, and I’m about to be visited by a young boy with an unfortunate bowl cut.

 

 _ _ **Unknown number**. _ 11:09 AM_  
I’ve ruled out you being an assassin sent to kill me. You’d have better taste in coffee.  
—  
I’m assuming this is you. But since you didn’t give me a name, I’m putting a lot on faith that this isn’t some poor stranger I’m harassing.

 

 _ _ **Unknown number**_. 11:54 AM_  
If you are a stranger and have no idea what’s going on, let me know and release me from this madness, I beseech you.

 

 _ _ **Unknown number**. _ 01:32 PM_  
Is this some test? Are there rules I have to divine to win this game of yours, or are you just toying with me?  
—  
Either way is fine. I simply work better when I have the right framework.

 

 _ _ **Unknown number**. _ 03:00 PM_  
I’m not above begging.

 

 _ _ **Unknown number**. _ 10:49 PM_  
I’ve strapped myself to the mast with clear ears, I’ll have you know.

 

Vex’s free hand was clapped entirely around her mouth, stifling the laughter threatening to break from her lips and envelop her whole. 

She read them all once, and then again, letting out a strangled noise as she fought the urge to leap up and do a little dance. Champagne in her stomach and stars in her eyes, she let out a stupid, dreamy sigh.

He hadn’t just texted. He’d _texted_ , without any reserve for maintaining a casual distance. So often people thought it was better to wait some predetermined amount of time before contacting her, as if the number hadn’t conveyed her interest in the first place. It was so damn refreshing that she didn’t even think as she replied. 

 

 _11:10 PM_  
is that what you’re into? bondage?

 

For a moment, she wondered if it was too forward, if she’d judged him wrong.

And then the ellipses popped up, and she actually giggled. 

 

 _ **Unknown number.** 11:10 PM_  
I’ll try anything once. I work better with my hands free, though.

 

Her brows rose as she sank to the floor next to Trinket, legs turning wobbly and warm. _Dear lord_. 

 

 _11:10 PM_  
good to know

 

 _ **Unknown number.** 11:11 PM_  
It was a reference to the Odyssey. I’ve decided you’re a siren luring me into the sharp rocks.

 

 _11:11 PM_  
pity I have a rubbish singing voice. your poor ears

 

 _ **Unknown number.** 11:11 PM_  
They’ll survive.  
—  
I was starting to think you wouldn’t respond.

 

Her head fell back against the island, Trinket nudging her once to see if she was all right. 

This…this was _lovely._

 

 _11:12 PM_  
busy day. I’m not that cruel ;)

 

 _ **Unknown number.** 11:12 PM_  
I think I’ll decide that for myself.

 

 _11:12 PM_  
is that a promise?

 

A pause. She watched the ellipses pop up and disappear, and pop up again. Her heart leapt up into her throat as she pulled her knees into her chest, waiting. 

 

 _ **Unknown number.** 11:16 PM_  
I think so.  
—  
Yes. 

 

 _11:16 PM_  
good  
—  
I have to sleep now. working girl gets the worm. you know

 

 _ **Unknown number.** 11:16 PM_  
Tease.  
—  
Sleep well.

 

She snorted, and shook her head. Her entire body hummed with an electric potential, a buzzing, wonderful thrill she hadn’t felt in years. Maybe she was acting like a teenager. She certainly felt like one. 

 

 _11:17 PM_  
you too  <3

 

The ellipses popped up again, and disappeared. She waited, but there wasn’t another message. 

She sat on the floor of her kitchen for a long time, finally rolling over to sigh into Trinket’s stomach. _Hopeless._ She was entirely fucking hopeless. 


	7. speak it's language, it'll do the rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Shoot and Run" by Josef Salvat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4obeS-Afs6Y&t=0s&list=PLYYP1CurSOrRBpTbMNMV9mExnpViKOJ0C&index=8)

Within three days, Vex and her mystery man had settled into a comfortable report, predicated upon a few, unassailable rules. The first being that neither one gave their name. They were, as they had been that night on the windy, shadowed roof overlooking the dark landscape of Emon, strangers, and strangers they would remain. The second, following the first, being that no proper nouns were used in relation to themselves. They did not discuss family, friends, employers, or addresses. Whenever one of them would stray too close to matters which would have required explanations or justifications, they both, whether unconsciously or not, steered into safer climes. 

They flirted, they teased, they hinted at darker moods and emotions, but they never delved. Both of them maintained a careful distance, a demilitarized zone of topics which might never move beyond their momentary, revelatory place in each other’s life. 

And within three days, Vex found herself thinking of almost nothing else. 

It was she who started the flirtation, unable to keep her fingers from shooting off a message at breakfast the morning after his initial texts. 

 

_8:09am_

am I correct in assuming you’re one of those assholes who drinks their coffee black without cream or sugar?

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 8:09am_

The gods did only a handful of things right at the start of creation. Why would I seek to perfect that which is already perfect?

 

_8:09am_

because a good caramel latte is better than most orgasms??

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 8:09am_

I’ve made a terrible mistake in giving you my number. 

 

_8:10am_

undoubtedly ;)

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 8:10am_

I hope this isn’t your idea of early. 

 

_8:10am_

and when did you get up

—

ass

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 8:10am_

Five. Most mornings it’s four, but for some reason I was having a hard time falling asleep last night. 

—

Is that a compliment or an insult?

 

_8:10am_

hard time falling asleep oh? what ever could have kept you awake darling?

—

seeing as how I haven’t actually seen your ass, I can’t comment either way

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 8:11am_

A beautiful, terrifying woman accosted me yesterday. I was disturbed.

 

_8:11am_

terrifying?? how charming

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 8:11am_

You should see how much I’m shaking right now. I can barely type.

 

_8:11am_

‘shaking’ hm? is that what we’re calling it these days?

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 8:12am_

Calling what?

—

Oh. Right. No. 

 

_8:12am_

have I scandalized you

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 8:12am_

Obviously

 

_8:14am_

you should sleep more. the dark circles under your eyes might be handsome, but that can’t be good for your health, with all the smoking

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 8:14am_

I’ve tried. Believe me.

 

_8:14am_

maybe you’re not getting enough exercise

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 8:15am_

If you tell me to take up yoga, I’m going to destroy my phone. 

 

_8:15am_

there are other ways to wear oneself out

—

why do you think I sleep in so late?

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 8:15am_

Are you this forward with everyone?

 

_8:15am_

only the ones I like ;)

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 8:16am_

You don’t even know me. I might be horrible. 

 

_8:16am_

I have a good feeling about you darling

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 8:19am_

I feel honored.

 

_8:19am_

you should

—

heading to work. feel free to tell me at length how horrible you are, but I might be slow to respond for a while <3

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 8:20am_

Noted. Have a good day at work.

 

Vex had stared at her phone for a long time after that, feeling that same sense of giddy recklessness suffusing her bones which had come over her the night before. There was something…arcane about the way she felt, staring at the silly nickname she had given this stranger who, twice now, had managed to shift her out of place ever so slightly. She, who had worked so hard for so long to make a place for herself, to find her footing, to build a wall of thorns around her life so that nothing might break her again, so that she would never have to spend another night shivering in an alley with someone else’s blood under her nails.

This was a gentle, soft drop into the surface of the still pond of her life. Something harmless. Flirtation with a man who stared at her like she was something special. Teasing with someone who didn’t know her and her past, who had asked her for nothing—not even her name. 

It was a safe kind of danger. The kind of danger which reminded her what it felt like to be young and wild. It would not unseat her. Not if she didn’t let it. 

Only when Trinket had whined and nearly bowled her over in his desire to get out of the apartment did she slide her phone away and try to refit herself into the outfit of her sleek, sophisticated life.

For three days, they exchanged texts, all flirty, all casual, all safe. For three days, Vex had to fight the urge to constantly look at her phone, to hide her secret smile whenever Saundor was watching her. She’d had flings before, of course. He had accepted her need to “spread her wings,” as he had so pedantically described it. As long as she knew where to come home to roost. As long as she knew who it was who loved her most. Who could protect her when no one else could. 

She needed to bring her head down from the clouds, to focus. Krieg was slowly and ostentatiously revealing more and more of his business like a sideshow magician—a veritable empire of miscreant dealings and connections with people who would never be invited to any of Uriel’s galas, no matter how much money they might have. 

Saundor had dealt with shady people in the past. One had to, to get his level of wealth and influence at such a young age. But there was something…sharper about Krieg. Something which went beyond the usual slime and grit of Emon’s underworld. Something which smelled of brimstone and ash and the twisting of morals. The sundering of oneself to turn a profit.

Vex had long since abandoned the notion that one could rise to any height without getting one’s hands dirty, but she still felt some nagging guilt at so flagrantly playing with darker forces. A guilt which, obnoxiously, carried the tone of her brother’s voice. 

She hadn’t seen Vax since their fight the previous week. Hadn’t exchanged more than a few cursory messages. He had sent her Keyleth’s address, and the time of her party, and left it at that. Allowing her the space to feign ignorance or inability to attend. Too bad that his “space” always reeked of condescension. Worse, that she knew he was right. Damn him for not letting her dissociate in peace. 

_Stupid_ , she thought as their meeting wound down and Krieg rose to leave. _I should reconcile before things get awkward._ If she left it any longer, she would need to show up at Keyleth’s party after all. And for some reason, the idea of attending made her very, very nervous. As if by going to something where no one expected anything of her beyond her presence, she would be revealed for the fraud she was. 

When had she become a woman who couldn’t bear to spend time with the people she loved?

She heard her name and looked up, catching Saundor’s annoyance in his dark eyes. But it wasn’t him who had spoken. Krieg, in his navy suit and flashy, gaudy jewelry, was giving her an indulgent smile. His slicked, oiled hair gave him the impression of a wet lizard. 

“You seem distracted today, Vex’ahlia,” he said, his unctuous voice grating. “Were you two up late… _working?”_ He gave a self-satisfied chuckle and made to elbow Saundor at his side. 

Saundor merely shifted out of the way, his expression smooth, but tight. Giving no assistance as he continued to stare. This was her fault, his silence said, and she could deal with it on her own.

Vex arched her brow at Krieg, fighting the urge to throw her tea in his face. She stood gracefully, gave Saundor a silent look which meant that she would be leaving, whether he joined her or not. “Unfortunately, Krieg, you are not the only client which occupies my mind.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring, sweetheart.”

_Pompous bastard._ “And it’s not my problem to reassure you. You need our money. We need your results. Without one, the other would crumble. I’d take more time ensuring that you can deliver on what you’ve promised today.” Never mind that she barely remembered. Something about facilitating the shipment of illicit wares. Opening up new revenue streams through Emon. Paying off the right member of the Guard. 

She slid her things back into her briefcase and turned, feeling both men follow her with their gaze. 

“Take a look at the guest list for Uriel’s next fundraiser,” Krieg called, still smiling, “and then you can tell me what I do and don’t deliver.”

Vex hesitated long enough for Saundor to join her, his hand pressing proprietarily at the small of her back, before she left the room and Krieg’s odor behind her. 

They made their way in silence to the elevator. The back of Vex’s neck itched. She couldn’t help the feeling that someone was watching her. 

“What did he mean?” she asked, voice careful, composed, when the elevator doors closed and she and Saundor were momentarily alone. 

Saundor said nothing, his hand flexing slightly as his nail scratched intently along the bottom of her dress zipper. 

More silence. 

“Saundor—”

“Patience,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the base of her jaw, quick, placating, before the elevator opened. He strode purposefully away into their joint office, his movements feline. Graceful as always.

Vex watched him, apprehension making her skin squirm. What was so important that he would need to wait to tell her until they were truly alone?

She passed the secretaries working at desks to either side of the main walkway. Both of them beautiful, young—younger even than her. Their eyes followed Saundor with a hunger she could understand. She’d used to look at him the same way, before the hunger had turned and began to eat at her instead. 

“Order lunch,” she said sharply, making them both jump. The young woman was quicker to regain her composure, the young man blushing and coughing uncomfortably. “Leave it outside the office. I want you both gone for an hour. I’m sure you can make yourselves useful during that time.”

They bobbed their heads in assent, and Vex fought the faint self-loathing she felt at their expressions—eager, afraid. She’d picked them for that fear. It was easier to control someone who had something to lose. She knew that better than most. 

She took a moment to compose herself before following after Saundor, straightening her back, ensuring her expression was cool and unaffected. She let the lightly fragranced air of their office wash over her, the pristine wood floor, the neutral walls, the efficient design. This was a place she had crafted carefully to give her power, painstakingly ensured that only money and influence shone in its stark elegance. Here, she was queen. 

Saundor had undone his tie, draped his suit jacket over the back of his desk chair. Vex took comfort in the idea that he only took off his armor for her. As if she alone were trusted to see him this vulnerable. 

She leaned against his desk, letting her brow arch suggestively. “It’s adorable that you think getting naked is going to distract me from what you’re hiding.”

His expression turned sly as he looked at the firmly locked doors at her back. “Is that not why you sent the children away?”

“Maybe I was tired of watching them lust after you.”

His thin lips twisted in satisfaction as he paced toward her. “Jealous, dear heart?”

Vex put her hand firmly on his chest to stop him from reaching for her, pushing him back against the desk as she stepped away. He tried to move, but she pressed harder until he understood that she was not in the mood to be toyed with. “Tell me.”

Saundor settled back and crossed his arms, something indulgent in the way his eyes caressed the neckline of her dress. “Top drawer.”

Annoyance flashed at his enjoyment of her discomfort, but she walked around, sure to keep her expression coy and unaffected. Saundor was a predator. If she showed weakness, he would spring. 

An invitation sat atop a neat stack of others in his drawer. He’d been collecting them as long as she’d known him, as if to remind himself, continually, that he was a man whom everyone wanted and desired. To reassure himself of his position amongst Emon’s elite. This one was unfamiliar, however—thick, expensive cardstock embroidered with a silver, leaf-like design, elegantly framing a small, simple message. 

_Mayor Uriel Tal’Dorei III hereby invites you to the first celebration of the new partnership between Emon and Syngorn, where we shall honor our most respected guest, Ambassador Syldor Vassar._

A slow, tinny roar began to build inside her ears. Vex stared at the curling lines of her father’s name, the graceful penmanship, the stylish gilding of silver underneath every swirl. Dimly, she was aware of Saundor stepping toward her, his hand once again at the small of her back, crowding her smaller frame, his breath hot on her bare neck. 

_… our most respected guest, Ambassador Syldor Vassar._

She controlled the tremble in her fingers. Took a slow breath through her nostrils. “When were you going to tell me about this?”

Saundor laughed, a low rumble expanding through his chest, making some part of her flinch in response. “You should have been the one to tell me, Vex’ahlia. Krieg was right. You’re distracted.”

“When is this?”

“A few weeks from now.” He smiled as she relaxed slightly, the impression of his mouth curving against the back of her neck. “Plenty of time to prepare for your little family reunion. I’ll be with you. You won’t have to face him alone.”

Heart beating in her throat, she blinked rapidly against the tears building in her eyes. She was not a child to cry at the mere thought of her father. She was not a spurned little girl anymore, wishing that he would look upon her with something other than disappointment and shame. She was one of the most powerful people in Emon. She was a woman, grown. Her wealth rivaled her father’s now. In a few years, she’d gained more money than he’d see in an entire decade as an ambassador. 

She would meet him, for the first time in nearly a decade, and she would be _breathtaking_. He would know exactly what he’d lost by pushing her away.

Saundor’s fingers closed around her chin, gently pulling her gaze to his. “I’m serious. This sloppiness isn’t like you.”

She swallowed and sank into his embrace, rising up to kiss him, slowly. Needing to feel something other than the rock hard memory of a painful childhood. To banish the thought of any life she might have had before Saundor. Before she was powerful. She felt him soften against her, his body reacting instinctively to her touch. He was so easy, sometimes. 

“I fought with Vax last week. It’s…been difficult.”

He hummed in idle thought as he lowered her zipper, crowded her back against his desk. “I understand. Always. How long did you send the children away for?”

“An hour,” she breathed as his other hand slipped between her legs, hiked up her dress, as she let herself get lost in his long, sharp fingers, in the movements which had by now become a ritual. 

“Good.” His teeth caught the edge of her ear and she groaned.

She placed all thought of shame and pain on a high, well-worn shelf in her heart. She retreated, as she always did while Saundor worked her body, into a place of silence, a place of serenity, where she was no one. 

 

~  ✧ ~

 

That night, after her second shower to rid the feeling of sex-slicked shame from her body, Vex sat in her fine silk nightgown, staring out of her floor-to-ceiling windows. Her skin felt raw where she had scrubbed herself clean, where she had sat in the scalding shower for nearly two hours, waiting to remember how to breathe without crying. 

Her father was coming to Emon. She would see him again. And it would be horrible. 

Trinket, sensing her mood, had laid his head in her lap, his body radiating heat and comfort. She scratched idly behind his ear, wishing she could be just this. Just a woman with a dog. This was simple. She was good at this. Everything else seemed to be getting harder. Being a sister. A partner. A friend. A lover. All her careful weaving and warping of her life seemed to be unraveling behind her, and it was all she could do to keep herself from falling to pieces. 

_You’re being overdramatic_ , she told herself, taking another sip of the bottle of overpriced vodka she’d received as a gift from a client nearly a year ago, but never opened. She wanted to pour it into coke, but she’d had one more coffee than she should have that afternoon. She didn’t have the calories to spare. 

Calculations spun in her head, how long she would need to exercise tomorrow set beside how much work she still needed to do, to settle Saundor’s itinerary for his upcoming trip to Wildemount, to ensure everything was perfect. To remind him of her worth after playing at half-skill the past few weeks.

She should have gone to bed. It was nearly midnight. Her mind, however, would not let her rest. And so she found herself sipping from the diamond-studded bottle, trying to remember why any of this was important. 

Why she cared about it so much.

A soft buzz and alert broke through her paralysis, and she looked down at her phone. _(1) unread message from_ ** _Professor Jones_** , flashed up at her. 

Somewhere in the ice of her chest, a candle flickered, and she opened the message. 

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 11:49pm_

I’m correct in assuming it’s only common curtesy to bring a gift to a party one has been invited to, yes?

 

Vex felt the side of her mouth twitch. The first stirrings of something other than muted despair reached her for the first time since she’d read her father’s name on that lovely invitation this morning. 

 

_11:50pm_

is the party being hosted by a duchess?

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 11:50pm_

Not to my knowledge. The hostess is something of a princess, I think, though not in the way that would require obeisance. 

 

_11:50pm_

what a tease you are

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 11:50pm_

Only for you, dear.

 

_11:51pm_

tell me about this not-princess then

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 11:52pm_

She is the second most eccentric person I have ever met. She loves animals. Hates choices. Loves fiercely and freely. Brave. Clumsy. Tiring. Wonderful. And a constant annoyance in my otherwise quiet life. 

 

Vex stared at the screen, fighting the urge to feel jealous over this woman she’d never met. Her mystery man spoke of her like he loved her. In the exasperated way that people spoke of the ones who made them feel whole. Made them feel less alone. Perhaps he did love her. Perhaps that was why he never asked for Vex’s name. 

If only someone could think of her in such a compassionate way. 

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 11:54pm_

She also likes plants. If that helps. 

 

_11:55pm_

she sounds impossibly lovely

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 11:55pm_

She is the only friend I’ve ever had. It’s new, but nice, and I find myself terrified by the prospect of failing her in some way. 

 

Friend. Ah. 

Vex hated that she was relieved. 

 

_11:56pm_

if she isn’t truly a princess, I don’t think you’ll be penalized for not bringing a gift. most people would rather have you bring booze to a party

—

maybe booze?

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 11:57pm_

I already asked if I could bring refreshments and she admonished me for even considering it.

 

_11:58pm_

you asked? oh my, never ask

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 11:58pm_

And this is why I have come to you. See how hopeless I am. Take pity on me, won’t you?

 

_11:58pm_

she likes plants hm?

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 11:58pm_

And animals. 

 

_11:58pm_

have you thought of getting her a horse she might ride through the woods

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 11:59pm_

I don’t think her landlord will let her stable a horse in her apartment, but I’ll look into it. 

 

_11:59pm_

when is the party?

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 11:59pm_

This weekend.

 

_11:59pm_

cutting it a little close darling

—

let me check something

 

Vex set down her vodka bottle, cringing at its vulgarity now. It was decent vodka, but was the excess really worth it? She frowned at the thought and rose to put it away, suddenly feeling as if she couldn’t bear the sight of it anymore. She poured herself a glass of water, blinking through the fog in her mind. Checking her email, she smiled. Trinket whined as he padded after her, put off by her sudden departure, and she knelt down to let him lick her face. “Thank you, darling,” she murmured, settling cross-legged onto her cold kitchen floor. She maneuvered around Trinket, letting him sit heavily in her lap, pulling him back in to her chest for a hug. 

 

_12:05am_

tomorrow morning at the shoreline arboretum, there’s a display on called ‘plants of issylra’

—

organized by a few ashari, apparently. they usually have some house plants for sale and if you get there before it starts you might find something interesting. 

—

should be easy for you since you never sleep ;)

 

At the thought of Ashari, Vex fought a wave of guilt. Vax was right. She was being horrible to Keyleth. She’d only met the girl a few times, and each had been awkward, tense. No one deserved that, especially not anyone who claimed to care for her brother. 

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 12:07am_

You can’t know how perfect this is. You’re brilliant. Thank you.

 

_12:07am_

of course dear <3

—

also you won’t be the only one having a hard time this weekend. I’m going to my brother’s girlfriend’s party and dreading every moment of it

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 12:07am_

On Saturday?

 

_12:08am_

mhmm

 

**_Professor Jones_ ** _. 12:08am_

What luck. We can be miserable together. After this advice, I owe you. Feel free to bombard me with messages and I will do my utmost to provide any necessary distraction. 

 

Vex’s thumbs hovered over the screen. Her first instinct had been to flirt, to suggest that he might do better distracting if he sent her something more than a message. 

But that was flying too close to the sun. This was supposed to be simple. Detached. Sexting wasn’t usually crossing a line, but…

She couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be something more with him. Something she could not discard so easily. 

 

_12:10am_

I’ll keep that in mind

—

good night

 

Her phone buzzed again but she put it on the ground, sliding it a few feet away with her foot. She stared at it, fighting a knot of conflicting emotions rising in her throat. 

Instead of addressing any of them, she buried her head in Trinket’s fur, and murmured, “Oh, Trinket, what am I doing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS. So I realize it's been over a year since I updated this fic, but I'm back! I am determined to finish this fic before the end of the year, so I hope there are still some of you hanging around <3 I've got five chapters pre-written, so expect quick updates for a few days. 
> 
> Also fuck I missed these two. I've been rewatching Campaign 1 and maaaaaan I have missed them so. much.


	8. got so much to lose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Trouble" by Cage The Elephant](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AcDYTcTXtI8&list=PLYYP1CurSOrRBpTbMNMV9mExnpViKOJ0C&index=9&t=0s)

Vex hit the ground hard, all the wind knocked out of her. Her vision darkened around the edges for a moment. Above her hovered full red lips twisted into an exhilarated smile. 

“Think faster, love.”

Vex laughed, accepting Zahra’s hand as the other woman pulled her up. Sweat dripped down her spine, chest burning. She wiped her forehead and leaned on Zahra as she caught her breath. “You’re a bitch.”

Zahra laughed, her low, cultured voice coming out in a rough purr as she gave her a soft pinch on the side of her stomach. “Are you just figuring that out now?”

Vex let her friend pull her to the side of the gym to watch the other women spar. Their self defense class was small, only the most advanced students making their way to the top of the curriculum. Most of the women present were here for something more than exercise, something more than playing at being strong. They had seen true violence, and they were fighting it here in this gym every week. It was with a sense of purpose that everyone arrived here, to church, to exorcise their demons in sweat and, sometimes, blood.

Zahra stretched before her, red lipstick somehow pristine even after two hours of sweating and swearing and slamming each other to the mat as they went through their combat exercises. The dark skin of her stomach gleamed with moisture, and not for the first time, Vex had to pull her eyes away, chastising herself. It’d been a long time since she’d decided never to cross that line with Zahra. She was too important to alienate by pushing away in order to protect herself. Vex wouldn’t know what to do without her if things…went wrong. As they had a tendency to do once Saundor found out she’d developed feelings for her ‘dalliances,’ as he liked to call the other people who shared her bed. 

Zahra gathered her long white hair up on top of her head, sharp eyes not missing anything. “You’re going to buy me a drink tonight and explain what’s put you off.”

“Zahra—”

“It is Thursday, and those are the nights I get you all to myself.” She leaned down and gave Vex a lingering kiss on the cheek. “And if that prick gets annoyed, he can take it up with me. I’ll finally have a reason to gouge his eyes out.” She gave her a thumb’s up and a wink.

Vex thought about arguing, but she didn’t have the heart. Not after the past few days. 

Class ended soon after, and Zahra steered her to a bar a few blocks from their gym. Neither one of them bothered to change or shower, both looking sweaty and messy and unrefined. Thursday nights were the only time Vex let herself be anything less than perfect. It had become a tradition of sorts, to glory in her own unsophisticated odor, to sit beside her friend, and release the tension she’d built up during the rest of the week. Thursday nights were sacred. And Vex had been breaking that sanctity the past two weeks by skipping out on class, and by extension, Zahra. 

Just as she’d been avoiding Vax, she’d been avoiding Zahra, and all the rest of her friends, if she could truly call them that. She felt too raw, too frazzled, to be able to hide away her feelings. Things at work were growing barbed, for no reason that she could determine. Saundor was moody, possessive, even more than usual. And the business with Krieg was putting stress on both of them. 

Learning her father would be in the same city had only served to pull her the rest of the way under. 

Two gin and tonics later, with her mind occupying a happy place of buzzing serenity, Zahra said, softly, “I heard about Syldor. I’m so sorry, dear.”

Some part of Vex laughed at the tone. As if Zahra were offering her condolences. _Bastard might as well be dead_ , she thought. _Might even be easier if he was_. 

The thought made her hate herself, just a bit. 

“I should have guessed,” Vex murmured, shrugging. “I heard rumors that Uriel was trying to shore up an alliance with the other city states of Tal’Dorei. Fighting on Wildemount’s grown worse. They think there might be a true war breaking out any day now. I should have assumed Syngorn would reach out.”

“Oh, my darling,” Zahra smoothed her hair back, cupped her cheek. “You don’t have to give me that bullshit.”

Vex laughed, nudging Zahra’s leg with her knee. She was, perhaps, the only other person in the world who could sympathize with Vex on this matter. Her own father was a tyrant and a monster, and Zahra had long ago fled his twisted paternity. And unlike Vax, who seemed to be more than willing to forget his father and never give him another thought, Zahra understood what it was to pine for a man who had never loved her. Who had, in fact, broken her in more ways than one. 

“What can I say, dear? I’ll see him. It will be horrible. I’ll move on.” Vex toyed with the ice in her empty glass, conjuring a weak smile. “At least he won’t be able to call me a vagrant disappointment. Now I’ll be a _well-dressed_ disappointment.”

Zahra tucked her hair behind her ear, her expression not at all like the one Vex’s mother used to wear, but conjuring that same hot, hopeful feeling inside her. As if someone was looking out for her other than Vax. She might have started crying right there in the bar if she hadn’t trained herself not to lose control at every twist of her heart. 

“There is nothing disappointing about you, my love.” Zahra’s brow creased ever so slightly. “Perhaps your taste in men.”

“Oh, stop,” Vex said weakly, brushing her hand away and catching the eye of the bartender. “Here I thought you were the only one who might _not_ try to micromanage my love life. You’re still dating the ex-cultist, aren’t you?”

Zahra’s expression turned pensive as she ignored Vex’s jab at her current boyfriend, head tilted back in something like a challenge. “Perhaps if everyone else in your life is in agreement, you should listen. When has that ever been true before? I know your friends. It’s a wonder you all haven’t killed each other yet.”

“They’re not really my friends,” Vex murmured, staring down into her new gin and tonic. “They’re more Vax’s friends.”

Zahra arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

Once, maybe. Not anymore. Not with her work schedule, and her attempts to erase any part of her life that once was frayed and ragged. 

“What does he think of your father coming to town, by the way?” Zahra said, her large, lovely eyes trying for innocence.

Vex took a large sip of her drink and winced. This one seemed to have more gin than tonic. “I haven’t told him.” At Zahra’s pointed silence, she continued, “We’re…I don’t know. In a fight? Not talking? I haven’t heard from him in a while. He’s busy with his girlfriend. And his boyfriend. Apparently there are people just lining up to love my brother.”

Another beat of pointed silence. 

“I know, I know,” Vex muttered, shaking her head. “I just… He doesn’t understand my life. He doesn’t understand what I’ve done, and why it’s so important.”

“Apparently, neither do I.”

Vex shot her a sharp look. “Yes, you do. You know what it’s like to make sure that no one can touch you. To build up your life so that when the gods decide to ruin everything again, you don’t get lost in the struggle to remain human. So you can take care of the people you love. You know exactly what I mean.”

Zahra didn’t back down, but sympathy shone in her gaze. “There’s a difference between safeguarding the future and trying to erase the past, darling.”

The words had their intended effect. Vex struggled to think of some way to respond, but she was caught in the truth. Isn’t that what she was doing with Saundor every night, and day, when he pulled her into his arms? Erasing that weakness, that lingering certainty that no one wanted her, and no one needed her. She wasn’t first person in anyone’s life anymore. She’d had Vax when they were younger, but now he belonged to other people, people who loved who he was now, who didn’t make him feel guilty. People who were not broken. 

Zahra pulled her into a hug. The noise of the bar dimmed for a moment, and Vex wished she could simply pack everything up and disappear. Leave all her raw and ragged feelings behind and start fresh. But there was too much tying her here. And she could never do that to Vax. He might have moved on from needing her, but she would never move on from him. Even if she punished him for it. 

“You know I care about you,” Zahra murmured, “more than almost anyone. You’re like a sister to me.”

Vex’s eyes burned, but she tried for a laugh. “I feel the same. You know I do.”

Zahra pulled back, determination in the set of her lips. “Come with me to Marquet. I’m going next month to meet my cousin for a vacation. You need a holiday. Let’s go mad. Live a little. We can find some dashing local to sunbathe with us during the day and get into all kinds of trouble at night.”

Vex shook her head before she even considered the question. She might want to fly off into the sunset, but she couldn’t. Saundor needed her here when he left to keep the business running. Vacation would need to wait. 

She would soldier on, as she always had. 

Something dimmed in Zahra’s eyes, not disappointment, exactly, but resignation. “The invitation stands, Vex. It always will.”

 

~  ✧ ~

 

Vex found herself sitting on a park bench an hour later, staring at the manicured green before her. Little fairy lights had been placed in the bushes lining the long promenade of grass, woven between the trellises which hung the last flowers of the season. The night was warmer than it should have been, the last hurrah of summer before it finally died and made way for autumn. She couldn’t help remembering that night on the roof. Where the air had been cold and full of promise. Where the city had faded away for a few blissful moments. 

Where a white-haired stranger had soothed her loneliness, even for just a moment. 

“Vex?”

Vex blinked, jarred by the familiar voice. 

A woman stood on the path a few feet away, holding onto a handful of leashes attached to a veritable menagerie of dogs. Tall, with brilliant red hair which fell in cascading, lively curls around her face. In the light of a lamp-pole, Vex felt herself pierced through by wide, sincere green eyes. 

“Keyleth,” she said after a moment, realizing with a wave of embarrassment that her own eyes were burning with tears. “Ah, hello.” She rose, bending to smooth out her workout clothes, trying to hide the act of wiping her eyes. Clearing her throat, she straightened up again, tried to smile in an imitation of happiness. “Gods, you snuck up on me.”

Keyleth said nothing for a moment, seemingly indifferent to the dogs curling around her feet, confused by the sudden stop in their walk. As it had the other times they’d met, Keyleth’s face shined with every emotion she was feeling. Even more than Vax, she was so bloody sincere that it made Vex want to grab her and shake her. 

What right did she have to such ease?

She couldn’t help but run her eyes over Keyleth’s outfit. Khaki overalls. A crop top showing a muscled, healthy stomach. She was so tall. Vex had forgotten how damn tall she was. Hoop earrings and tattoos, bright red clown shoes which looked disgustingly comfortable. It would have looked absurd on anyone else, but Keyleth pulled it off. There was no air of _trying_ to do anything with her. She just was. She just…breathed life. 

Maybe that was why Vex fought so hard not to like her. 

“Are you…okay?” Keyleth asked, actually biting her lip as she took in Vex’s puffy eyes. “Did something happen?”

“Of course I am,” Vex said breezily, shifting her bag up farther onto her shoulder, the expensive leather feeling showy all of a sudden. “Don’t be silly. What are you doing in this neck of the woods? I thought you lived in Abdar’s Promenade?”

“I do,” Keyleth said slowly, “but I work at the animal shelter downtown.” She gestured to the dogs, all of whom were surprisingly well behaved. “Next to the federal building.”

“I thought you were a gardener?”

Silence fell between them, and Vex had to fight a wince. Gods, could she be any more rude?

“Or that you worked for the…ah…”

“The Conservatory,” Keyleth supplied helpfully. 

Vex couldn’t tell if her expression was still concerned or hurt. Perhaps a bit of both. “Right. Sorry.”

“No problem! I have a lot of jobs, so I understand how someone could get confused. I just…like to be busy.”

Another heavy pause. 

“Are you,” Keyleth started, looking around, “waiting for someone?”

“No, I’m…” What was she doing? How had she gotten here? Why hadn’t she just gone home? Her cab had dropped her off in front of her building. She’d waved to her handsome doorman. Made a joke about hating to turn in so early. But she hadn’t gone up. 

She’d just…stared at the gilded, modern doors of her building, feeling an extreme, violent aversion to entering that stark apartment alone. Trinket was waiting for her. He was probably hungry, and lonely. 

What was wrong with her?

“You live close to here, right?” Keyleth asked, stepping a bit closer. 

A few dogs sniffed Vex’s legs, and she bent to scratch them absentmindedly, as if her body were moving of its own accord. 

“Do you…maybe want to bring Trinket down? I’m almost done with these guys. We could…go for a walk? Get some ice cream?”

Vex looked at Keyleth, really looked at her, trying to think of a reason to refuse. Zahra had seemed to pry something open inside of her earlier, only she hadn’t the courage to call up her best friend, her _best friend_ , to tell her she might have been right about needing a holiday. 

“Ice cream?” Vex asked, hating the way her voice shook. “I…sure. That sounds…nice.”

It sounded infantile. It sounded pathetic. But some part of her was screaming on the inside, and she’d take anything right now not to be alone. 

Keyleth hovered all the way to her building, making small talk in the only way she could. Awkwardly. Loudly. Bubbily. Vex zoned out a bit, but made sure not to insult her by ignoring her outright. Slowly, bit by bit, she was pulling herself back together. Trying to imitate the expressions of someone who smiled, who talked, who interacted with people she knew. She threw her things into her apartment without even looking in, letting Trinket out as fast as she could, locking it behind them both, as if the very air was toxic. 

Vex and Trinket followed Keyleth back to the animal shelter, walking until it was firmly night, and all the lights on the city street cast the sidewalks in a stark yellow glow. She let the noises wash over her, remind her how to be a person. All the while Keyleth continued to talk. After Vex got used to it, it was actually quite soothing. 

Keyleth was the kind of person who seemed to be a force of nature. She was contained in her own sphere of life, confident in nothing, and so she was never playing at anything. She was never pretending to be anything other than what she was, even if what she was was a bit loud, a bit unwieldy, and uncountably kind. Sweet. Simple in a way that contained multitudes, and was not simple at all.

Walking with her through the dirty, lonely city of Emon, Vex began to see why Vax might like her. Keyleth was different from anything they’d known growing up. She was happy. Or she seemed happy, she _breathed_ happy. Like a warm summer’s day. 

When she had dropped her dogs off at the shelter and they were left by themselves, Keyleth seemed to get anxious. Her hands were shoved into her pockets, shoes scuffing along beside Vex, hair bobbing up and down like it had a life of its own. 

After a particularly uncomfortable pause, Vex ventured, “You didn’t grow up here, right? In the city, I mean.”

Keyleth jumped on the question, relieved. “No, Zephrah. Near the Lucidian Coast?”

“Oh, sure.”

“Yeah, so this,” Keyleth gestured to the city, without ire, but with a kind of wistful smile, “was a bit of a change.”

Vex grinned. “For me too.”

“Right,” Keyleth laughed, trying to tuck her hair back only to miss a huge chunk. Beads and wrapped string caught the city lights, bright flashes of blue and purple amidst her mass of red curls. “Vax told me you guys spent most of your time crawling through woods when you were little.”

“ _I_ crawled through woods. Vax was always a street rat.”

“He says you dragged him along with you.”

“He would.” Vex’s chest ached thinking of her brother as he used to be. A little shit in black leather. The shadow at her side. Her echo, her answering smile. “He was the one who dragged _me_ into trouble. I’m the one who got him out of it.”

“That must have been really nice,” Keyleth said with a bright smile. 

Vex looked at her, wondering how much of their history she knew. Did Keyleth know that they’d been taken from their mother when they were only ten, forced into a life neither of them wanted with people who despised them, only to get away at last, and find that their mother had been killed while they were gone—alone and seemingly forgotten by her children?

“It was,” Vex said, with only a bit of difficulty. “Once upon a time.”

“I don’t have any siblings, so I’m jealous. The way Vax talks about you…” She trailed off, looking as if she revealed a secret she wasn’t meant to reveal. 

“Look, he isn’t perfect either,” she said, frowning. “I could tell you loads of stories about his lesser—”

“What?” Keyleth stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, looking as if Vex had claimed the sky was falling. “No, he… He’s only ever said you were brilliant. Smart and clever and charming.” Vex must have been giving her a skeptical look, because she continued, “You’re his hero, Vex.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, half laughing, stepping to the side as the pedestrian traffic clustered around them. 

Keyleth bumped into a few people as she joined Vex, nearly falling on Trinket when she lost her balance. “I’m serious, he adores you.”

Vex’s neck went hot, and she found it hard to meet Keyleth’s gaze. She knew that her brother loved her. Of course she did. But to be his _hero_ …

Keyleth was exaggerating, obviously. She seemed like the type who would blow things out of proportion. 

“Come on,” Vex said, walking forward to escape the beams of the other woman’s frank green eyes, “you promised me ice cream.”

Keyleth dropped it, falling back into idle conversation. Vex prompted her about her childhood home, and the rest of the way to the little ice cream cart on the edge of the fountains outside City Hall she was treated to descriptions of beautiful mountains and sunsets which painted the sky in hues hitherto unseen by the rest of the world. Vex listened with a kind of longing for the picture Keyleth painted. Somewhere untouched. Hidden. High and away from the rest of the busy, dirty world. 

It reminded her of the infrequent days her mother would take off work and bring her and Vax to a park a few hours south of their home. They’d run past gargantuan trees, climb outcroppings of rock to cut leaves from the aloe plants to bring home to their bathroom. Their house would smell like mint and rain for a week, making it wild and new. 

Seated with Trinket on the edge of the reflecting pool, with the lit up fountains cascading red and blue water over a mundane late summer night, Vex felt as if she owed Keyleth an explanation. 

“I’ve been working so hard,” she said, clumsily, nearly startling Keyleth out of her silent consideration of a statue across the courtyard. “I find myself getting turned around, sitting places I didn’t mean to sit.” She laughed at Keyleth’s furrowed brow. “It’s nothing serious, no amnesia, or anything, just…my overworked brain taking me places before I realize where I’m going. If that makes sense.”

Keyleth blinked, licked her double scoop of mango and pistachio ice cream. “Sure.”

“That’s why I was sitting on the bench, looking like a vagrant.” Vex finished off her lowfat frozen yogurt, the entire thing gone in a few minutes, tasting of empty calories. “I’m fine, really. Just tired. I had a class earlier tonight, too, which makes me zone out.”

“Class?”

“Self defense.”

Keyleth’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know you took self defense classes.”

Vex shrugged. She hadn’t told Vax, so there was no reason why Keyleth should have known. “It’s a good way to blow off steam.”

The night grew oppressive as Keyleth continued to stare at her. Vex didn’t think she was particularly pretty, but there was something magnetic about her. Something hypnotic about the way her silences spoke louder than her words. 

_Why does it matter if she’s pretty?_ a hard, disappointed voice asked her. Vex didn’t have an answer. Beauty was important. Looking clean, composed. It was all important, but for the life of her, she couldn’t in that moment say why. 

“I won’t tell Vax,” Keyleth murmured, her voice soft and gentle. 

Vex tried to formulate a response, hating that the offering just hung there between them. A gift she could not reciprocate or pay back. The worst part was, Vex knew Keyleth would not ask for anything in return. She wouldn’t even think of it. 

Keyleth finished her ice cream in silence, not looking at her. Only when she was done and streaks of ice cream had been brushed off onto her pants did she say, with a quavering kind of courage, “I know you don’t like me very much, and I’m not asking you to be my friend, but if… I like Vax. A lot. And I’m—here if you need someone to talk to. I’d like if you might be there for me too.”

Vex held her gaze, and felt something like a bomb go off in her stomach. It worked its way up her throat, burning of acid and bile, and she could not fight the coming tears. 

How horrible had she been to this girl that she would look at her with such fear?

“Oh, Vex,” Keyleth murmured as Vex let out a broken sob. “It’s okay.”

_It’s not okay. It hasn’t been okay for a long time._

Vex let her embrace her, let her wrap her long fingers around her back, her strong arms pull her into a hug that hurt just as much as it helped. They sat on the side of the fountain, Vex crying into Keyleth’s messy, wonderful red hair, Keyleth murmuring little assurances and comforts. She smelled like fresh dirt and flowers, like melted ice cream. She smelled like a happiness Vex had only read about in books or seen in quirky indie films laced with irony. Except that there was nothing ironic about this hug. It was just an offering. A gift. Without any thought of recompense. 

And it broke Vex’s heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise we'll get into more shippy stuff soon. I just want to flesh out Vex and Percy as severely depressed and broken people (which was kind of the point of me writing this fic, tbh). I know it can be kind of a bummer, but I think it's important to show their growth as both people and as a couple. 
> 
> I'm so excited to be writing this fic again, you have no idea. Thank you to everyone who commented last chapter! There are still a few of you hanging out with me, which honestly makes this much less terrifying lol.


	9. throw our shadows down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Windows" by Angel Olsen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CQSOoFlaxI&t=0s&list=PLYYP1CurSOrRBpTbMNMV9mExnpViKOJ0C&index=10)

For nearly a decade, Percy had been unable to get more than four hours of sleep a night without assistance. 

Usually, it was alcohol of some kind. He’d gone through a spat of prescription drug use which bordered on addiction, but there was never any worry of him growing dependent. He’d long ago determined that his true addiction was self-loathing, and there was no neat slip to take to a pharmacy for that. He made do in other ways, naps at his work station, coffee. Sweet, merciful coffee.

His trouble wasn’t nightmares. It was the memories. The PTSD. The diagnosis of severe psychological trauma he’d first experienced at sixteen, and then again at twenty-two. Doctors had prescribed medicine, meditation, exercise, therapy, so, _so_ much therapy. Percy had nodded politely, listened to their kind, pedantic words, and then he’d walked out of each and every office never to return again. 

What was wrong with him could not be fixed with therapy and medicine. Not even with love. He was broken. A fragile, integral piece of his soul had been mangled beyond repair, and there was no amount of self-acceptance in this world which would cure him. He would not accept what he was. And therefore, his subconscious would not let him get more than the necessary amount of rest to do what he had been put on this earth to do—devise new and more imaginative ways of killing people. 

No, there was no cure for what he was, save for a bullet. And he was too much of a coward for that. 

So, when he fell asleep one warm autumn night at eight, completely by accident, and was awoken by an insistent buzzing at three, he felt a little like he was emerging from someone else’s life. 

He frowned, picking up his head from the scratched arm of his couch, only to see his cat staring at him with a look he recognized well as _murder_ for forgetting to feed it. “Have you figured out how to work my phone now?” he asked, groggily, his tongue feeling like a hairy slab of meat in his mouth. “What a clever little shit you are.”

But the phone continued to ring, and the cat continued to stare at him, its black tail whipping back and forth like a demonic prince ready to serve judgement upon him, and so he rose. It was the oddest feeling in the world. Both refreshing and entirely disorienting. His brain had been replaced by a leaden swarm of bees and all the fluid in his head injected with nitrous oxide that hadn’t yet metabolized. His body did not seem to be able to make up its mind about whether he felt good and well-rested for the first time in a decade, or if it were rejecting the sleep like an allergic reaction. 

He fumbled for his cell phone, shrugging out of the jacket he was still wearing, and answered the call without looking at the ID. “Hello, yes, who the bloody hell do you think you are calling me at a time like this? Haven’t you ever heard of texting?”

There was a moment of silence, which was not truly silence at all, but the moment of breath before one takes the plunge off a high, windy cliff. A moment laced with potential, with a tension that hummed it was so taut. 

“To be completely honest, I thought you’d be awake. Seeing as how you’re probably a vampire.”

Percy stared into the darkness of his apartment, at the reflective eyes of his demon cat, feeling a little like he had lost the ability to formulate language. 

“You could have just ignored me, if you’re actually upset.” 

The voice, _her_ voice, sounded strange over the phone, wiped of its resonant nature but given a quality not unlike the transported sound of a violin being played in a room with a closed door. 

He looked down at his phone to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating—getting to be a habit where this woman was concerned—but he saw the title he had given her shining up at him. **_Artemis_**. 

He took a quick breath, sat back into his couch, and managed, “My anger seems to have dissipated, strangely enough.”

She laughed. _Laughed_. Gods, it was a lovely laugh.

But there was something choked about the sound. Something…not quite right. Of course, he hadn’t spoken to her enough to know when things were right or not right, but she sounded…nervous? Upset? 

She said, “Strange indeed.” 

Another silence. This time Percy could hear her breathing, the soft brush of air coming out of the speaker like a pleasant odor, a gentle perfume. It was, gods damn him, _erotic_ , sitting here in the dark, listening to this woman, this figment and specter of a woman, breathe at him. 

“ _Were_ you sleeping?” she asked, voice quiet, soft. 

“I—was, yes.” Percy cleared his throat, heart trying to take flight up through his mouth. “Don’t worry, if it wasn’t you, it would have been the cat soon.”

“Oh, well now I feel bad.”

“Do you?” he asked with a laugh.

“No, not really.” A pause. “You have a cat?”

“Aren’t I allowed?”

“I just didn’t figure you for a cat person.”

“I’m not a cat person.”

“Were you tricked into it, then?”

“I was, actually. My—” He stumbled over the word _sister._ Was that too much to offer? He had asked about a gift for Keyleth because he’d truly had no idea what to bring to her damn party this weekend. _Tomorrow_ , his brain corrected. 

Mentioning Cassandra felt somehow…dangerous. It was crossing a line they’d so far kept intact between them. From keeping this, whatever it was, pleasant, unbinding. Free. 

The problem was, it was hard to remember that any line existed when he could hear her breathing on the other side of his phone. 

“I never meant to get the cat,” he said, lamely, when it was clear she would wait for him to finish. “It just sort of…happened. Accidentally.”

“I see.” 

Another pause. A shift of sound. 

Unbidden rose thoughts of where she was, how she was sitting—was she sitting or standing? In her apartment or somewhere else? Did she own a house? Presumably she was home, since it was three in the morning. But maybe that wasn’t her life. Maybe this was normal for her. Calling strangers in the fragile hours of the morning, and he shouldn’t count it as anything other than a common occurrence. Never mind that he was having a hard time formulating a coherent thought with her _breathing_ at him.

“I—” She broke off, made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a sob. A sob? Was she crying? “This is silly. I don’t know why I called you.”

“Well,” he said slowly, “perhaps if you keep talking, I can help you figure it out. I’m very clever.”

Another laugh. Startled this time, and bright.

“You don’t want to go back to sleep?”

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

“Flirt.”

He felt as if he’d been punched in the gut, and the pain had turned so sharply into pleasure that the neurons in his brain couldn’t decide which one he felt more keenly. “You’re the one who called me at three in the morning.”

“So I did.” Another pause. Another moment of breath suspended. “I… Do you ever feel as if you’ve looked into a mirror and are unable to recognize yourself? Like someone else has replaced you, but you look the same, and you’re the one acting differently, and you can’t…stop?”

Her words came out in a tumble, fractured and tripping over themselves. It was the first time he’d heard her be anything other than cool, collected. In their text conversations, she was nothing but flirtatious, competent. So much so that Percy sometimes wondered what the hell this woman was doing talking to him, of all the hapless idiots in the world. 

But this…admission, seemed to clear all that away. A new picture rising of this woman who had descended so gracefully into his life. 

And her words hit him like a welcome bullet to the heart. The line between them wavered. Percy felt something shift inside him. Nothing fundamental. Nothing earth-shattering. But it was there, sure enough. Like a beam of sunlight piercing through grey cloud. A hand reached out. A plea. 

“I shouldn’t have called,” she said after what must have been an unbearably long pause. “I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

“Please don’t go,” he said quickly, his voice more breath than tone. “I—I don’t think I would recover if you hung up on me now.”

She was silent for a moment, before she let out a small hum. As if she wanted to laugh, but couldn’t.

“You took me aback, is all,” he continued, sitting up straight, his free hand gripping his knee to anchor himself in something other than the sound of her voice. “You do that a lot.”

“Maybe you should get used to it,” she said, a hint of her old confidence underlying her soft words. 

“Maybe,” he agreed. She could have suggested boiling children alive and he would have agreed. He swallowed, tried to summon his own confidence. “No, I don’t feel that way.”

His apartment seemed to contract in the silence that came next. The formulation of what he meant to say. 

“I don’t feel that way,” he said slowly, “because I stopped expecting to see anything recognizable in myself a long time ago, simply to save myself the disappointing reality of what I am.”

He didn’t think in terms of then and now. Before and after. It was a series of small murders of his own better self that had made him into the man he was today. There was no younger boy who had been consumed by a darkness. No wayward son turned violent by tragedy. There had only ever been who he was. And who he was, was a monster. 

The unspoken explanation hung between them, in the atoms carrying the transmission of her voice to his. In the connection arcing over the city in which they both sat, awake at three in the morning. She, whoever she was, trying to find some connection. He, desperately wanting to give it to her. 

She exhaled, a life’s weight of sadness hanging on her laugh. “Aren’t we a pair?”

Grateful, he smiled. “I figured there had to be some reason I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“You can’t stop thinking about me?” Her voice was ragged, but there was something charged about it. Something sinful, and primal. Something which scared him. 

He was scared so often these days, he’d forgotten how nice it felt to be scared by something out of one’s own control. 

“I should have thought that was obvious,” he murmured.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either.” He heard the smile in her voice, imagined the tilt of it, conjuring up images from the too-brief time he’d been able to see her, to watch her talk. “It’s silly, really. We don’t know each other. But you’re the only thing that’s kept me sane the past week. You and your messages.”

_Ask for her name. Make this real._

He wanted to. He wanted to so badly it paralyzed him.

Percy didn’t believe in the gods and fate, in some higher power directing his life. He couldn’t. Because to believe in destiny meant that he was destined to lose his family. Destined to be driven from his home. Destined for all that pain and anger and hate to fuel his mind, to reveal the clever cruelty inside him, once and for all. Destined to kill, and keep killing, with every new thought which crossed his path. Far easier to believe that he was simply terrible, and to leave it at that. 

But for the first time in his miserable life, he wondered if maybe there wasn’t some sense to the world after all. 

“I shouldn’t have called you,” she whispered, and he could not help but picture her lips again. The image wasn’t good enough, however, because he hadn’t had time to memorize them. He wanted time. 

He could ask for time. 

“No,” he agreed instead, and it hurt, somehow, deep in the part of him which still craved the base human intimacy he’d neglected to foster these last ten years. “You shouldn’t have called me. But I’m glad you did.”

“Me too. Did you get your friend something nice for her party?”

“I did.” He swallowed something hard and sharp in his throat. Talking about Keyleth to this woman borne of smoke and the boundless opportunity of a nighttime rendezvous clashed in his mind. Like they were fundamentally opposed somehow, this life, with her, and the one where he was expected to be a person and attend a party he did not want to attend. “I got her something called ‘Pyrah’s Blessing.’ It’s…red.”

She laughed, and Percy tried to memorize the sound. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it was precious. That it might be taken away at any moment. 

“Well, I’m sure she’ll love it. Whoever she is. I have it on good authority that the Ashari are the best cultivators of beautiful, growing things across all of Exandria.”

“I’m sure she will. It’s weird. Just like her.” He had to stop himself from saying more. Anything else and he might as well tell her all about Keyleth. 

But to do that would make this real. And like all real, good things, it would become breakable, and inevitably go the way of every real, good thing in his life. 

“I should go,” she whispered.

His nails dug into the tight skin across his knee. “You should.”

“Right.” A pause. “So I will, then.”

“I—I know this might be forward,” he said, stumbling over his words a bit, knowing he shouldn’t say them, but ‘should’ was taking on a hazy, ill-formed meaning in his own mind, and he didn’t rightly care anymore, “but you can call me again. If you like. Time be damned. I promise not to get even a little bit angry next time.”

The silence this time felt different. In it hung the crushing disappointment he’d known would come in some form. And, sure enough, he heard her sigh, and felt it in his stomach, blowing out the last flicker of hope he might have held for this, for her. 

“You are so sweet. I want to. I…truly do, but I’m—involved.”

Another bullet through his heart. This one hitting the back of his ribcage with a sickening crush. Rebounding. Shattering. 

All he managed to do was push air through his lips, a brief opening of his mouth. “Ah.”

“It’s more complicated than me just seeing someone else, but…I shouldn’t have called you.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Well, no, but…”

He hadn’t expected anything else. He might have asked, if he were a brave man, but he had never _expected_. 

“You shouldn’t have called me.” He tried for a nonchalance he didn’t think he had ever felt. “On the cosmic scale of evils done in this world, I think you can be forgiven for something so small.”

He didn’t add that it wasn’t small. Not at all. It felt, at that moment, like the biggest thing in the world, but he tried his best not to indulge in this fantasy, to convince himself that this was some kind of betrayal. He had known this was coming. Nothing gold can stay, after all. 

“When you put it that way,” she said, weakly, “I suppose it does sound rather inconsequential. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t be. It was nice.” He hadn’t meant to say that, but somewhere in the region of his chest, his words seemed to be cut off from his brain. His heart was simply offering whatever it found up to his lips. Rooting through the canned phrases he’d learned long ago to satiate the people who wanted something from him he could no longer give. “Thank you again for the advice. You saved my life.”

“Of course, darling.” 

_Darling_. Who else could say that without sounding like an ass?

“I want you to know that I did…appreciate this. Even for such a short time.”

He smiled into the dark, even though there was no one to see him struggle except for his cat. “I felt the same. Sincerely.”

Another silence. Percy knew that this one would be the last, but he couldn’t focus on anything. Not her breathing, or what she might look like. She was gone, already. As if in the disconnection she had entirely vanished from his life. 

And damn, it hurt more than he’d expected it to. More than it should have. 

But perhaps that was the sign that he did not deserve something like this. Something revelatory and new. Something which hummed with only the best kind of risk, and reward. The thing which killed him the most, though, was that she seemed to be having the same problem. And how, in all the world, had they managed to meet, only to break apart again so quickly? Shouldn’t it have been harder? Shouldn’t he have fought? Even if this was little more than a chance meeting, a momentary infatuation, why was it so easy to let this die, to let her slip away? Why was it so easy for her to disappear?

“Have a beautiful life…” Her voice trailed off at the end, as if she were giving him one last chance to offer his own name, to make this something more than an ephemeral thing. A thing that was real, and could not be set aside so easily. 

But before he could wish her the same, she hung up. 

Percy sat on his sofa in the dark, listening to the sounds of the city outside his window. They were soft, sorrowful, and he felt strangely at home beside them. The distant cry of sirens. The rustle of trash in the alley. The low, whistling wind catching on the metal edges of buildings and tearing as it flew away. They were not sounds meant for normal people, who slept eight hours a night and went on dates with people whose names they already knew, who laughed without pain, and greeted the sun with contentment, not resignation. They were meant for the people who slipped between, who were too broken to come out into the full light. People for whom loss was a second language. 

He watched his phone display wink off. He watched the dark edges of his apartment grow more concrete as his vision adjusted, reverted. 

The cat hopped down next to him, and instead of meowing for food, or digging its claws into Percy’s leg, it merely sat and kept vigil to the growing abyss inside his chest. 

“Well,” he started, not sure if he meant to be talking to the cat or to himself, only to find that he could find no words. And he didn’t have the heart to look for any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to slide in a disclaimer here that Percy is very, very obviously in a terrible head space. Therapy is good. Medication is good. As someone who has benefitted from both, I want to make sure that I don't give anyone the impression that these things are in any way bad. Everyone approaches battling their inner demons in their own way, and sometimes we are in a place where we can't see the forest through the trees. I know there's a fine line between depiction (which I think is incredibly important in fiction) and endorsement, and I will always try to write something that is true to the character I'm writing. This will sometimes mean going to a very dark place. If it gets too dark, or too hard, please, _please_ put your own mental health first. 
> 
> I love you all <3 
> 
> (Also I realize Exandria has its own mythology but Artemis is too good to pass up and Percy's a nerd so I'm going to be anachronistic.)


	10. a man made monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Killer" by The Hoosiers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNlVu8ZksbY&index=11&t=0s&list=PLYYP1CurSOrRBpTbMNMV9mExnpViKOJ0C)

The whirr and hiss of the clockwork mechanism before Percy made a pleasant, distracting sound. There was something marvelous in it—the little chaos matched with precise, scientific construction. The gears and clicking metal of the figures moved slowly as they bowed and dipped. He didn’t have the mastery yet to get them to actually dance across his table. They stayed in the same place, the man’s hands spasming slightly as they held up the woman, stretched ungracefully back in a show of releasing herself to a silent music. 

It was, he thought, a perfect encapsulation of his skills. Trying at artistry. Playing at poetry. In reality producing something trite and stuttering. His fingers too hardened and rough to create something so pure. 

As he watched the two figures slow in their movements, as they clicked to a halt and the gears went silent, he caught himself humming a tune he hadn’t even realized he’d remembered. A waltz, sung in a brave, brassy voice, and followed by a softer, gentler echoing hum. Plucked from his childhood memories, the ones he had thought were all but buried or erased, he remembered one night sneaking up to the little ballroom in his family estate, the one not used for receiving guests or people of standing. The one built only for the family. It was in that little ballroom, gilded in gold and silver and walls hung with misfit art which did not match in any other room of the estate, that he had spent every Winter’s Crest Eve until he turned sixteen. 

That night, he couldn’t remember which year it was now, but he was young—still young enough to feel a little thrill at sneaking out of his room, goaded into a show of courage by his older sister, Vesper, to catch a peak at that year’s gifts. He had stood at the door, frozen at the sounds of his father singing vigorously, parading his mother around the ballroom in a show of energy Percy had never witnessed before. His father had been stern, but fair, taciturn and wise—a man who said more with his silence than his words. His mother was laughing, her dark hair down and loose, a look of absolute abandon on her face as she hummed along to his father’s incoherent recitation of a waltz Percy had never heard before.

Staring now at the clockwork figure before him, he felt a wealth of self-loathing. It was all he could do not to throw the little toy across the room. To smash it. To banish that memory and the pain. His subconscious had created this weak, feeble imitation of his life as it once had been, and in doing so, he had tarnished the memory of that night. By looking at it, realizing it, and its subsequent corruption, he had killed another piece of himself. 

Better those memories stay buried. Stay pure. 

He didn’t smash the figurine. He wasn’t that far gone. Not today.

He got up from the table, paced around the room once to settle his unrest, and went for a cigarette. It’d been a while. An hour since his last. Long enough, surely, to justify another. Whatever rest he’d managed to steal the previous night had been lost after _she_ had hung up. He had stayed sitting, paralyzed for hours, trying to summon some motivation to rise. To eat something. To go back to sleep. 

But he had sat until the sun rose. And only when the cat had begun to yell had he stood and fed it before leaving for his workshop. Working would not help the hollowness inside him, but it was better than nothing. He had long ago lost that thirst for vengeance, for destruction. Now he simply went through the motions. Hoping that some clarity might break through the monotony and transport him for a few blissful seconds into that quiet space of invention he had so loved as a boy. 

His fingers shook as he lit the cigarette. He did not think of the woman, of her red lips closing around the orange end. Of the paper crackling and throwing sparks into her dark eyes. He did not think of her laugh, and her hesitation. The sound of her breath. 

He smoked, and he paced. And instead of quiet, he flipped through his records until he found something suitably loud to drown out his own thoughts. To replace the static with noise, any kind of noise. As if he might be able to shock his mind into thinking down the right paths, scare up some productivity.

The quartet began, and Percy closed his eyes at the ominous plucking and hopping of notes. The building and broken melody, dissonant tones building to an empty and yet weighty continuation of the same progression over and over again, each time with an underlying darkness. It was one of his favorites, this Shostakovich. One he always played when he needed to shake himself out of a thought spiral and back into work. 

And yet, this time, as he was listening to the dancing back and forth of the first violinist with their fellows, he heard a kind of familiar ring in its dancing melody. Somewhat reminiscent of his father’s song, quaint and old, a folktune of some sort, from Whitestone’s long history as a pastoral and removed place at the top of the world. It was there in the dissonance of the strings. The moving back and forth between idyllic ignorance and a darker pull toward entropy. The first violinist fighting against the cello. The melody warring with the dissonance underneath. And when it flew into the second movement, and then the third, he could not help hearing that same, horrible melody pulling at him under the tide of the music. He turned the sound up on his record player as far as he could go. Sat on the floor with the back of his head pressed flat against the wall. Trying to will himself into a furious sensation of feeling which simply would not come. The musicians fought with each other. With the piece. With themselves. And so he fought to rid himself of his parents and that ballroom and the oppressive, sweltering memory of a night without fear and loss. 

The sound cut off. Jarred in the silence, he opened his eyes.

Only to see Ripley standing over him. 

She crossed her arms and scowled. “Are you high again?”

Percy blinked a few times, realized his cigarette was nearly burnt to its end, and rose. His knees popped and his back protested, but he could not remain on the floor with her looming over him. “Tragically, no.” He snuffed out the butt and ran a hand through his hair. Too long. Still too bloody long. “How did you get in here?”

“I bribed the keycode off your mad delivery man. Why you still insist on working with that nutjub, I’ll never know.”

“I like Victor,” he murmured, looking around his workshop, aimless. He’d gotten up for something, hadn’t he?

“You would.” 

Ripley moved in front of him to perch on his desk when she saw that was where he was heading, crossing her legs. There was no ease in her movements, no grace. She was hard. Compact. Efficient. From the cut of her hair to her choice of clothes—black pants, white buttoned down shirt, grey coat. He supposed there was something appealing about the meticulous devotion to order she exuded, but Percy had always found her to have an air that expelled anxiety. As if she were always calculating, always striving for balance. It made him tired just to look at her. 

“What do you want?” he asked, more sharply than he’d intended. She was the kind of woman who rose to a challenge, and he didn’t have the energy to meet her cutting words with anger. Normally, he enjoyed poking, prodding, stirring her into frustration. But not today. Today he was empty. And in that emptiness stirred cruelty of a kind he did not allow himself to indulge in. 

Her expression tightened. A moment of insecurity. “Orthax will be in town two weeks from tomorrow. He’ll want your final designs for the new software upgrades for the Righteous Brand. I thought I would give you a warning.”

For the elite militia of Wildemount. So that they could fight the insurgence along the Xhorhas border. Never mind that Orthax was supplying the same technology and weapons, if modified so as to erase any recognizable similarities, to Kryn guerrilla fighters. Percy had long ago decided to separate himself from any moral opposition to the instigating of both sides into a harsher, more profitable war. He was a dealer of death. It didn’t matter who was doing the dying. 

He asked, “Out of the goodness of your heart, presumably?” 

“Professional courtesy.”

“Bullshit.” He gave her a small smile. “There isn’t a courteous bone in your body, Anna.”

Her hand moved in a feigned gesture of nonchalance, one gloved finger moving over the head of the dancing clockwork pair. For a brief moment, he wanted _her_ to smash it. To throw it to the ground and stamp on it. To reflect something of the cruelty he felt toward himself. 

But she only laughed—a cutting, sharp thing, her laugh—and said, “We’ll be implementing a new model of VI in the coming months. I’d like you to get ready for the necessary transition.”

He stared at her growing sneer. Some empty part of him heard screaming. A distant, tinny screaming, not unlike the piercing cry of a teapot in another room. 

“A new model.”

“Something I’ve been working on for a while. An upgrade, if you will. Your Pepperbox was revolutionary for its time, but technology moves so fast these days. It’s been outdated for some time. Orthax thought we could stand to reinvent.” She waved her hand at his desk, strewn with designs, scrapped and viable, of drawings tacked to the board on the far wall. Her disdain was evident. She’d never understood his need to write things down, to record his thoughts in the fragile forms of ink and paper. Everything else was digital. It made little sense to someone whose work was her life and her blood, who viewed her creations as something sacrosanct, not to be trusted to anything so fragile as the physical. 

Percy didn’t rightly care. He’d already lost everything once. Truth be told, he’d wished his designs could be destroyed so easily. 

“With you busy on your…new project,” she smiled thinly, “Orthax wanted me to pick up the slack. Animus will be implemented as soon as he gives his approval.”

“Animus?”

“A better name than Pepperbox.” She pulled a black leather folder from her bag, set it down next to the clockwork dancers. “Look it over. I think you’ll find it an all together marvelous improvement.”

Anger rose unsteadily in the pit of his stomach. The furious warring that had been present inside him before her arrival was gone, leaving only a weak kind of opposition. 

He had no doubt she’d improved his work. He’d designed Pepperbox when he was only sixteen in a mad haze of rage and pain. Over the years, he’d worked half-heartedly to fix the deficiencies, to patch what his adolescent mind had not known were holes. But he hadn’t tried hard. And anyone who understood the technology, who looked long enough, would see the glaring solutions. 

Sometimes he wondered if some part of him had purposefully designed a faulty product. If he knew how much destruction he might cause with a fully working system. Virtual Intelligence was still new. He could get by with presenting Orthax a limited network. No children. No groups larger than five. No targeting known areas with a high civilian population. It was still more capable than anything else on the market at the time. But it had been nearly a decade since then, and Ripley was right. Technology moved faster than man’s better angels. 

He’d been waiting for this day. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t want to fight it. It was inevitable. He’d known that when he was eighteen and a man had approached him and offered him unlimited resources to implement the murder of the people who’d destroyed his life. He simply hadn’t cared. What right had he to care now?

He didn’t realize he’d been silent for a long time until Ripley rose and paced toward him. An imitation of solicitude played across her face, an attempt at seduction. “Face it, de Rolo. You just don’t have the heart for this.” She pressed her hand to his chest, stepped closer. He could smell her soap—something strangely sweet. Almost cloying. “You’re brilliant, but unmotivated. There’s no shame in admitting defeat.”

Percy stared as her lips parted, as she rose on the tips of her feet to kiss him. It was hard, demanding, and if he had been inside his own body, he might have felt it for what it was—her attempt to take this victory from him with her own teeth. 

When he didn’t react, she pulled away, accusation and anger in her eyes. 

“Get out,” Percy whispered.

Her expression flickered, embarrassed, and then she sneered. She almost slapped him as she stepped back, moving violently. Her boots made impressive thuds against the floor for such a small woman. 

“Anna,” he called when she was at the door. 

She turned, and he hated the hint of confusion in her eyes. Hated it, because he knew exactly how to make her think he might be giving her a chance. She didn’t want intimacy or trust, no, but Anna Ripley was human. She wanted to be loved, just like everyone else. 

He knew that. And so he let her think for one second that he had reconsidered. That maybe he would give her this victory that she thought she deserved, that she needed more than anything. One didn’t exist in their line of work for so long without learning what their colleagues were afraid of. Just as she knew he was broken, he knew she was hungry. 

He knew, and he used that to hurt her. 

“Don’t ever think to touch me again,” he said softly, not even looking at her, willing his voice to be light, unconcerned. “And if you come into my workshop unannounced for a second time, I will kill you.”

He didn’t look up to see her reaction, but he felt it in the hardening of the air, the quick intake of breath as she formulated her counterstrike. 

“Count the days, de Rolo,” she snapped, her anger unfurling her confidence. “Orthax will grow tired of you. And the moment he decides you’re not worth the coddling, I will be there to step over your worthless grave.”

He waited until she was at the door before he said, just loud enough for her to hear, “Better to be forgotten entirely than to be remembered by you.”

She left, the door unable to make any more sound than an unsatisfying click. The silence she left was stifling, and he hurried to turn on his record again. It had lost the menacing pull toward memory, but he found no solace in the chaotic music, in the war being waged between violin, violin, viola, and cello, and all of them with the composer. 

He tried in vain for another three hours to force himself to work, sketching out a bit more of his new project. A highly-advanced drone with the capability of leveling a small town. Paired with Pepperbox, or, he had to admit as he looked over Ripley’s designs, Animus, it would be the deadliest weapon Orthax could hope for. It would be enough to keep Percy working for the next decade. It would, he thought dimly, cement his role in the continuing destruction of the world. His final words to Ripley began to lose their cruel edge. Maybe it _would_ be better to be forgotten. To slip off this world without a bang, only a whimper. 

Would anyone miss him, really? 

Cassandra would. Even if they saw each other once a year, maybe, she would grieve for him. He thought she might even begin to hate him, were he to leave her alone. The last member of her family gone not by malice and the evils of psychopaths playing at godhood, but by his own hand. 

Keyleth would. She would cry and remember him as someone good. As someone he only ever was in the green-valley happiness of her mind. 

As they sometimes did when he was spiraling, his thoughts leapt for the most recent thing, and clung to it, examined it, in a kind of mental exercise—and so he wondered if the woman he’d named Artemis would miss him as well. If she might change her mind and call him again one day, only to be ignored. Would she try again? Or give him up? Would she think he had no desire to speak to her after she’d removed herself from his life?

His chest hurt. His temples pounded. He hunched over himself as a phantom pain ripped through him. No one had been able to determine the source of his momentary anguishes, this feeling of pain so immense, he felt it in every limb, every synapse, every breath. 

He thought sometimes that it was the pain of who he was fighting against what he had become. Two selves at war with one another, the psychological torment too much for his mind alone to bear, and so it expanded into his body. 

It went just as quickly, leaving him with nothing. A shaking echo. He bit the inside of his cheek. Tasted blood. 

What time was it?

What day was it?

_Saturday_ , said the display of his monitor. _Seven thirty-six_. 

Without realizing, he’d spent nearly twelve hours in his workshop. 

He was late for Keyleth’s party. 

He waited for the anguish again, for the pain of some part of himself screaming in opposition to doing something so banal, so mundane as to attend a party, to rear its head and make him cancel. 

He should cancel. 

Strangely enough, the image of that damn red plant stuck in his head. Everything else had faded to greys and whites and shadows, except for the large red leaves. The odd clashing dots of yellow and blue. His first thought when he’d seen it was that it looked like Keyleth transcribed. It had her gangly limbs, her brilliant color, her air of vibrant, wonderful presence, even when it was just sitting in its dull brown pot. 

She deserved it, for having gone through the trouble of befriending him. If nothing else, he owed her that. One party was a drop in the ocean of things he owed her, and it didn’t matter if he was fighting a losing battle with the entropy of his own soul. He’d give it to her. He’d cancel on Cassandra, then. 

What a terrible person he was, to trade one for the other. 

He lit another cigarette, allowing himself the time, though he was already late, to reorder himself as best he could. He left his workshop, the murderous tools of his own mind whispering their patience, their waiting, behind him. 

He thought of _her_ as he walked through the city, looking for a flash of blue feathers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [For anyone curious, this was the music Percy played while trying to dissociate <3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IDeJeBvln6E)


	11. somewhere on the outskirts of hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Lonely Town" by Brandon Flowers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W7Sz3r1-WX0&t=0s&list=PLYYP1CurSOrRBpTbMNMV9mExnpViKOJ0C&index=12)

Vex spent an embarrassing amount of time deciding what to wear to Keyleth’s party. 

It felt stupid, because not only did she know everyone who was going to be attending, she also knew that no one expected her to look any particular way. This group of friends was an odd one, comprised of two ex-cons, a hulk of a middle school gym teacher, an ER nurse, and a radical environmental activist who may or may not be some kind of princess. Add her into the mix, and none of it made any sense, but it worked, somehow. Most had been added to the group before Vex had left the streets and made a name for herself, excepting Keyleth and Pike, who had been brought into the fold later through Grog, funnily enough. 

No, none of them would expect her to look like anything, but that was what put her off. She didn’t know how to dress for a _casual_ event. Nothing about her life was casual anymore, save for the few minutes in the morning before she painted on her armor and those nights she worked up the motivation to attend class with Zahra. She hadn’t felt at home in anything other than velvet and silk for the past five years, and she couldn’t wear that to a friendly apartment party which would probably devolve into drunken board games. Not in the least because something was bound to get spilled on her at some point.

Vax’s voice drifted in and out of her mind as she combed through her walk-in closet, idly recalling the price of each and every item like a meditative exercise. _The thing that matters is that you show up, Stubby. No one gives two shits what you look like._

How far had she come that she’d forgotten who she was outside of people wanting something from her?

She had settled on jeans and a black shirt. Both designer, but the jeans were three seasons old and the shirt didn’t scream expensive if one didn’t look too hard, so she thought it worked. She fought the urge to hide herself in make-up, and only put a few touches onto her too-pale face—thank the gods pale was in these days, or she might need to start fake-tanning again—highlighter, mascara, primer to hide her dark circles, a lipstain close enough to nude she could play it off as bare-faced. No jewelry save her arrow necklace. Sweet Pelor, this was exhausting. She didn’t even know what normal people looked like anymore. She couldn’t exactly imitate Keyleth. 

Vex forced herself to leave on time, knowing that no one would expect her to arrive fashionably late. She walked Trinket, gripping his lead like a lifeline. He was the only thing keeping her sane of late. Her mind flitted through plans for work, through parties and events she had upcoming, flying manic like a butterfly in its death throws. All to save her from thinking about the thing which she had not allowed herself to think about for the last forty-eight hours. 

She’d been right to end things with her mystery man. It was growing too…significant. Too real. Better to kill it now when the pain was only a distraction. 

And so, when she arrived at Keyleth’s apartment, situated in an old neighborhood by the harbor, with buildings leaning precariously against one another and a healthy amount of dirt in the air, she had to fight the urge to turn around and walk back to the Cloudtop District. Walking through this part of the city always made her remember the nights she and Vax had spent looking for someplace to sleep. It felt like stepping back into her own memory, before she’d clawed her way up and out. 

Keyleth greeted her with a too-wide smile and enough happy surprise to make Vex feel wretched. The hug was too tight, too warm, and when Keyleth released her, Vex let out a relieved sigh that Vax, standing farther into the apartment, didn’t miss. 

“Steady,” he murmured as she gave him a perfunctory hug, Keyleth distracted by the two bottles of expensive bourbon Vex had brought and Trinket’s affections, “you got in without bursting into flames. Probably won’t get stabbed anytime soon.”

“Don’t be an ass,” she murmured back, with a pinch to his side as punctuation. 

He laughed, and as if he were waiting for permission, hugged her even more tightly, smothering her as she tried to get away. 

The others arrived soon after, a little late, with Grog muttering something about his restraint in not punching a man who had “looked dirty at Pike,” but only because Pike had “accidentally” kneed him in the groin on their way off the subway. 

It never ceased to amaze Vex that those two were such good friends. Scanlan and Grog she understood, the short man a finer, sleazier reflection of the big man, a beast of a person with a shaved head and wiry black beard, blue tribal tattoos not unlike Keyleth’s peaking up from the collar and sleeves of his t-shirt. Like always, Grog wore a shirt which looked as if it were fighting a losing battle against his muscles, and track pants. He’d told Vex on more than one occasion that he wanted to be ready for anything, thus the easily disposable pants. Vex thought it more likely that he wanted to be ready to display his bountiful calves at any given opportunity, but she didn’t press the point. 

Pike was radiant, as always, giving Vex a bone-crushing hug which conveyed, somehow, both security and ferocity. Her golden white hair was twisted into a messy knot, the scar across her eye promising violence even while her expression never strayed from happiness—a calmer, more settled kind than Keyleth’s. 

When Scanlan refused to greet her, Pike snorted. “Old man’s mad because he bet that you wouldn’t show up.”

Vex shot him a pained look. “Scanlan, how dare you?”

He sulked beside Grog, who patted him a bit too roughly on his shoulder and sent him sprawling into Trinket. 

“Thanks, by the way,” Pike gave her a wide smile. “You won me a trip to the movies.”

Vax’s brow lifted. “You two are going on a date?”

Pike blinked innocently. “Who said I was taking him?”

Vex smiled as the others laughed, giving Scanlan a sympathetic wink. His infatuation with Pike was a long-standing joke, one he was only too happen to allow, never seeming to take it personally. He was unflappable, undaunted. It would have been creepy if there was ever any malice in the continued rejections. 

Before all of them had drinks, Grog announced, loudly, “I wanna play Risk.”

“Easy, big guy,” Vax said with a grin. “You don’t want to get trounced right away and spoil the fun.”

Grog glared flatly at Vax. “Not today. I’ve been practicing.”

Her brother tilted his head, swallowing his amusement at the idea. Only Grog could make the suggestion that he had been practicing a board game sound like a threat. 

“We’re going to have to pick teams today, guys,” Keyleth shouted from the kitchen, where she was getting food ready. “We’ve got one more person coming.”

Vex looked at Vax with a frown. “Did you manage to get ahold of Tiberius?”

“No, the lunatic’s still got his head buried in books studying for the Bar. Haven’t heard from him in months.” Vax shrugged. “One of Keyleth’s friends, apparently.”

“Oh, gods,” Grog groaned, “not your ex-boyfriend?”

From the kitchen came the sound of glass clanging and a metallic thud as something fell to the floor. “N-no, _Grog_ , not Kash. And he wasn’t my boyfriend. He was—just a friend.”

Vax scowled at Grog and flicked him on the nose. “Be nice.”

Grog’s face colored in anger. “Don’t touch me.”

“Stop me, you big lug.”

Vex got up when it appeared that her brother was in a playful mood. “Don’t smash anything. Drink orders?”

“BEER,” Grog yelled as he tried to swat Vax away like an annoying fly. 

“Anything’s fine by me, sister,” Vax said, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Whiskey. Neat,” Pike said pleasantly. 

“Bourbon all right?” Vex countered.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

Vex grinned. “Coke, Scanlan?”

“With maraschino cherries,” he said, leaning away from Grog and Vax as their squabbling threatened to get out of hand. 

She got up, threading around Trinket as he lunged playfully for Grog’s leg. Keyleth was, as she’d assumed, already in over her head. There were pots and pans everywhere, the beginnings of a dip started by the fridge, something that looked like a vegetable plate hanging off the small center island precariously, and a host of mismatched mason jars which Vex assumed were meant to house the group’s drinks. 

“Can I help with anything?” Vex asked, watching Keyleth accidentally smear guacamole on the ass of her overalls—seemingly the same kind as the other night, though these were a bright shade of mustard yellow. Vex stopped herself from wondering how many pairs the woman owned.

“Oh, ah, sure! You can,” Keyleth looked around the kitchen with wide eyes, as if she were just seeing the mess of her method for the first time, “um—”

“I’ll do the drinks and the chips,” Vex said gently, taking the bag from Keyleth’s hands. “And you can finish cutting up the carrots and cucumber. Then we’ll tackle the dips, sound good?”

Keyleth nodded gratefully, her eyes seeming to hone in on Vex. “Thank you.” There was a moment of silence between them during which Vex heard her brother’s cackling laugh and the sound of something thudding against the floor. “He wasn’t my boyfriend,” Keyleth said, quickly, tripping over her words. 

Vex looked up in confusion. “Who wasn’t?”

“Kash. Kashaw Vesh. He wasn’t my boyfriend.”

“Oh. All right.”

“I just didn’t want you to think…you know.”

Vex arched her brow in amusement. “That you’d been with anyone before my brother? Because I thought you lived in a nunnery before meeting him?”

Keyleth’s brow furrowed. “When you put it like that, it sounds stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Vex murmured, bumping her with her hip when she was sure Keyleth wasn’t in danger of dropping something. “You’re sweet to explain, though. I appreciate it.”

Keyleth’s face went dark red. She kept chancing surreptitious looks out of the corner of her eye. Vex had to admit, there was something endearing about the obvious way she was holding herself back. 

“So,” Keyleth started after Vex had helped her regain control of the kitchen, “are you…you know? Okay? Not that you wouldn’t be,” she said immediately, busying herself with opening and closing the refrigerator, “obviously, you’re fine. But I thought—”

“Keyleth,” Vex said, closing the fridge for the last time and holding her in place by grabbing her arms, “I’m all right.”

A lump formed in her throat as she thought of what she’d said, the way she’d broken down in front of this person who, until that point, had taken on a kind of artificial animosity in her own mind. The part of Vex which cared about how she looked and who had the right kind of material to ruin her life hated that she’d been so weak. 

The other, quieter, less-confident part of her heart which still longed for approval, wherever it came from, thought that if it had to be anyone who saw her so humiliated, let it be Keyleth. 

“You were very kind to me the other night,” Vex murmured, trying her best to sound sincere. “Thank you.”

Keyleth grimaced slightly as she relaxed. “It was nothing, really. But you’re—you know? You can talk to me, if you need to. If you’re not…”

Vex swallowed her discomfort and released the woman. “Of course, dear. I’d had a long day and let my mind run away from me. I don’t know what Vax has told you about my job, but it can be…draining. I haven’t been taking care of myself like I should.”

“You should,” Keyleth urged. “You deserve it, Vex.”

She laughed. “It’s sweet that you think so.”

Keyleth looked as if she were about to continue saying something atrociously sincere, when there came a knock on the door. “Oh, that’ll be Percy.” She smiled, too bright. _Like staring at the fucking sun._ “You’ll like him. He’s clever like you. Also, he’s rich!”

Vex conjured a smile, curious despite herself at this odd description. “He sounds fabulous.”

Keyleth swept out of the kitchen, leaving Vex to gather up the drinks. 

Only to stop at the sight of Vax watching her from the doorway. 

“Stop lurking and help me,” she muttered, nerves rising like moths in her stomach. 

He drifted toward her, giving her at least a foot of space as he circled to help her carry the drinks inside. “What was that about?”

“What?”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t be dim.”

From the other room, she heard exclamations from Keyleth, a few exchanged comments from Scanlan, and a loud, bellowing laugh from Grog. “Impossible, brother dear,” she said with a smile. 

“Vex’ahlia.”

She rolled her eyes. “You wanted me to play nice with your girlfriend. I’m playing nice. She’s too good for you, you know.”

“I’m well aware.”

“How a bum like you ended up with that charming young woman, I’ll never guess.”

“Have we proceeded to insults now or will you talk to me?”

Vex hesitated, three drinks balanced in her hands, the overwhelming urge to spill her guts and tell her brother all that had been bothering her for the past few weeks, few months, really, rising up her throat like a sob. 

There was a time she wouldn’t have hesitated. She would have told Vax everything. She would have poured her heart out and let him hold her as she cried. They would have commiserated over how much of an ass Saundor was, how stupid it was to get carried away on a whim with her mystery man. They would have huddled close, sharing a coffee, a joint, sharing everything, and she would have felt home in the closeness. 

She hadn’t felt _home_ in a long, long time. Not since that night her world had been drenched in blood, and she’d started gathering her armor and training herself to be cold, cutting. To show the world nothing but her pointed smile and lethal charm. 

Vax watched her during the silence, while she strived to figure out what it was she wanted. 

“Later,” she murmured, the word pulled from her teeth like a sliver from her finger. Pain and relief bound up in one quick motion. “Later, yeah?”

Vax softened, and she saw her mother in his eyes as he nodded and pulled her in for a one-armed hug. “Always, Stubby. You know that. Whenever you want.”

She cleared her throat, chastised herself for getting so emotional. On a sudden thought, she asked, “Do you think you could get a weekend off soon?”

“Ah, maybe,” he said slowly, looking awkward. “With the holidays, I was hoping to work a bit more. We get double rate on holidays.”

“Do you need money?” she asked at once, lunging for the unease in his voice. “Vax, you know you can always—”

“Yes, yes, I know, Daddy Warbucks.” He smiled. “You know I _can_ take care of myself, from time to time.”

“But you don’t _need_ to, is my point. I can help you. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” Why else had she gone to all this trouble, if she couldn’t protect the people she loved and make their lives easier? All that work, all that clawing and scraping and horrible humbling—she’d done it for herself, true, but she’d done it for him as well. There was no question, no matter how strained things might have become between them, no matter how much she felt like she didn’t fit into his new life, that she would always, _always_ , take care of him. 

“I know,” he murmured, kissing her on the forehead. “I’m all right. Just pushing myself. Seeing if I have any of your grit.”

She put aside her worry for now. If he could give her space, she could do the same for him. No matter how hard it was. “Finally coming into that latent ambition of yours?”

“Please,” he scoffed. “I’m a no-good vagrant, waste of space son. Or have you forgotten dear old dad’s parting words?”

He said it like a joke, and normally, she would have laughed. 

But with Syldor’s looming arrival, and their unavoidable meeting, she couldn’t control her unease quick enough. Vax saw, of course. He saw everything, but before he could ask why her expression had gone dark at the mention of their father, Keyleth’s exclamation burst through the small apartment. 

“Oh, _Percy_! You shouldn’t have!”

Vex arched an eyebrow at her brother, who was now looking to the entryway in curiosity. “What’s that about?”

He shrugged, handing out drinks to Grog and Pike while she did the same for Scanlan. “No idea. Apparently this friend’s a bit difficult to pin down. Haven’t met him yet.”

At the sounds of Keyleth’s continued gushing, Vex nudged him. “Jealous?”

Vax scowled, taking a long sip from his drink. “Why should I be?”

She shook her head, marveling at his ability to brush off everything with such apparent ease. Another trait she’d not inherited from their mother. She took everything too seriously.

Trinket, rolled over onto his back so that Pike could scratch his belly, suddenly went still, and then shot up to his feet. 

“Trinket,” Vex called, seeing at once the sign that something had set him off, “settle down, sweetheart.” He was usually fine with guests, if a bit territorial. 

His ears twitched, and he looked to her once before he bounded for the hallway. Vex handed Vax her drink, alarmed by his behavior. He was the best dog she’d ever met, and had been so easy to train, she wondered sometimes if he wasn’t a human trapped in the body of a Saint Bernard. This was strange. 

“ _Trinket_ ,” she snapped, rounding the corner just as she saw him jump for the newcomer. 

Vex had the uncanny sense that time, for that moment, had been suspended. She heard a voice, a familiar voice at odds with her current environment—a voice she had associated with a nighttime phone call and a breathy conversation on a roof. Next, she caught sight of a shock of white hair. Her first thought was a kind of knowing disappointment, that the gods would be so vindictive as to deliver to her a man who looked so like the one she’d spent the last two weeks obsessing over. That it was an inevitable outcome of her breaking things off like she had. 

The last, and perhaps the most alarming, was that Keyleth had in her hands a plant Vex had never seen before. A plant with large red leaves. A plant which, at first glance, perfectly matched the description of the friend whom her mystery man had asked for her help in bringing a gift to a party. 

Vex looked from Keyleth, eyes wide in alarm, happiness transforming quickly to concern as Trinket leapt toward her and the man at her side. She looked at her dog, intensely focused on the man in the navy coat, with wire-frame glasses and dark, grey eyes. The man who was looking from her dog to her. The man who’s expression mirrored perfectly the shock in Vex’s mind. 

_Oh my god._

And then Trinket jumped. And the moment popped like a water balloon. 

Her mystery man went down in a heap under the barking mass of her beloved dog. Keyleth dropped the plant. Vex nearly tripped as she tried to grab for Trinket’s collar, legs tangled up in those of her mystery man. 

“Trinket,” she finally managed, the feeling of two worlds colliding in one enormous, ear-splitting _boom_ of realization. “ _Trinket, calm down! NOW._ ”

Her dog finally heard the tone in her voice, and backed down. He relented to her pull, still reaching toward the man lying limbs akimbo on the floor, dirt strewn over his clothes from the shattered vase at Keyleth’s feet. 

Only then did Vex see that there was no malice in Trinket’s lingering lean, in his frantically sniffing nose. The thought clicked into place as she stared down at the man who had occupied her fancy for the last two weeks. 

_He has a cat._

“Percy? Oh my god, are you okay? Percy?”

Keyleth’s voice broke through Vex’s paralysis, and she took a step back, giving the two of them room. 

Heart beating like a fucking conga line, Vex tried to pull her gaze from his, but she couldn’t. Not in the least because he seemed unable to do the same with her. 

He was lying on the ground, glasses askew, hands up in the air as if he were surrendering. He was doing nothing to help Keyleth get him to his feet. 

“Everything all right in here?” Pike asked, stepping up beside Vex and casting a sharp glance over the scene. 

Vex opened her mouth, but no sound came out. There was only the rhythmic jumping of her heart. The unfurling panic and pleasure and supreme, monumental confusion in her stomach. 

“I think he hit his head,” Keyleth said, worried, hands fluttering over the man’s chest, brushing dirt from his clothes. She adopted a loud, grating voice and enunciated clearly, “PERCY? CAN YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”

That seemed to break him of his own stupor, and he blinked owlishly. “Stop _shouting_ at me, would you?” His voice— _fucking hell it’s really him_ —was strained, choked, abnormally high. “I’m fine. I seem to have been knocked over by a _bear_ , but otherwise, fine.”

And at that, Vex lost it. She began to laugh, the hiccuping glee coming out in spurts that sounded so frantic to her own mind that she didn’t wonder why Keyleth and Pike looked at her in alarm. 

Her mystery man, however, only gave her a small smile, his brow furrowed in confused disorientation. 

She clapped a hand over her mouth as she backed away, leaning against the wall as her chest began to burn and her eyes watered. From the main room, everyone else had gathered to survey the scene. Vax walked up to her in alarm, only to pause when he realized she was laughing. 

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” Grog said, his broad face scrunched in abject fear. Dimly, she realized he’d never seen her laugh like this. She hadn’t let herself laugh like this in years. 

“Remember to breathe, sister,” Vax said, kneeling and wrapping his arms around Trinket to stop him from escaping back into the entrance. 

It was then that Keyleth came back into the main room, followed by Pike, short, steady, leading the mystery man by the hand with the air of someone leading a horse to stable. 

He froze at he sight of Vex and her brother, a look of supreme discomfort crossing his face. “I think I might have been too quick to rule out the concussion.”

Vex’s laughter was beginning to hurt, the stitch in her side burning as she saw his grey eyes flit back and forth between her and Vax.

“Have you never seen twins before, friend?” Vax asked. 

The man blinked. Turned to Vex with a kind of plea. “Twins?”

She finally managed to contain her laughter, and nodded. 

Keyleth, oblivious, said with a lingering trace of concern, “Percy, this is Vax. My um, you know…”

“Her Vax,” Vax offered helpfully, smiling.

_Percy._

Vex knew she should have looked away, that Pike was already watching her intently, that Vax would soon see what was bubbling up inside her mind. 

She had his name. 

“And this is Vex,” Keyleth continued, gesturing, “and that is Trinket. He’s usually so well-behaved, I didn’t think he’d have a hard time meeting new people.”

Vex swallowed the last of her mania and said, slowly, “He smells your cat.”

With that, reality snapped into place. She was standing in front of this man, this… _Percy_ , in the midst of her friends and brother, with her dog whining up at her. It was real. He was real. 

Percy blinked purposefully, still staring at her. “Ah,” he said at last. “I didn’t realize I’d need to decontaminate myself before stepping out of my apartment.”

“Or maybe he objects to all that smoke.”

“I’d have to reverse time to rid myself of that smell.”

“You should get working on that now that you’ve upset my dog. I’ll never forgive you.”

“Your dog,” he said quietly, as if he’d forgotten that anyone else was watching them. 

Vex nodded, smiling. 

A moment of silence expanded between them. 

“Do you two know each other?” Pike asked in a pointed voice, not even bothering to suppress her interest. 

Percy opened his mouth, seemed to struggle for words. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Vex said in his stead, feeling all at once her brother’s attention, Keyleth’s attention, the first rather more disconcerting than the second. 

“You wouldn’t?” Vax asked, his voice low, skeptical. 

“You do!” Keyleth exclaimed. “Oh, wow, this is so nice!”

“Is it?” Percy asked, pained. He gave himself a little shake, seeming to pull his expression away from Vex to her brother. “You’re Vax.” His hand shot out after a moment of awkwardness.

Vax looked as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or back away slowly. He took Percy’s hand, shook it with a growing smile. “Last I checked. Percy, was it?”

“If you like,” he breathed, looking back to Vex at once. “And you’re…”

Vex felt a moment of panic as she faced down the question in his eyes. She had broken this off. Before names and significance and pain could be ascribed to their random, wonderful, chance meeting. That time was gone now, obviously, but she hesitated for just a second. Just long enough for him to see her indecision. 

“Vex’ahlia Vassar,” she said, putting on a bit of her practiced nonchalance. 

She waited for recognition to flash through his eyes, but he seemed entirely taken aback by everything. Some small part of her was glad. Between the woman she’d shown to Emon these past few years, and the girl she still tried to be around her brother, she didn’t know who, exactly she was. And who she’d rather her mystery man meet.

He took her hand, barely touching her and yet lingering slightly, as if he couldn’t decide what exactly to do. “Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III.”

Vex couldn’t help her reaction. Her grip tightened as her mind honed into the name, the title left off the front end. Somewhere in her memory she had heard such a name. de Rolo. _de Rolo?_

Where had she heard that name before?

He released her grip, his expression closing somewhat as he cleared his throat. “Or, Percy, whatever you prefer.”

“Did you just have a seizure?” Grog called from where he’d retaken his seat on the couch. 

Scanlan’s grin was a wide, cheshire thing. “That’s a hell of a name. Who’d you have to fuck to get a name like that?”

“Scanlan,” Pike chastised him as she went for her drink and down the rest. She gave Percy a once over. “Name’s Pike. Pike Trickfoot. You want something to drink?”

“Oh dear god in heaven, _yes_ ,” he breathed, looking again at Vex, and then at Keyleth. Only then did he seem to notice the dirt still covering his clothes. “I broke your gift.”

Keyleth waved him off, returning to the entranceway to collect the plant where it had fallen on the tile. “No worries. I’ve got a bunch of extra pots on the terrace. No harm done.” She frowned playfully at Trinket. “Bad Trinket.”

Vex caught Percy—no matter how much she thought it, she couldn’t quite believe that he had a name—watching her without any attempt at subterfuge. She smiled, enjoying the color in his cheeks. “Good choice,” she murmured as she walked past him to grab a towel from the kitchen. 

He took the towel robotically, expression caught between confusion and wariness. “Are you going to out me, then?”

She chuckled, the sound manic and uncontrolled, not at all like the one she’d cultivated over the past few years of galas and parties, of conversations more akin to battles than pleasantries. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Bless you,” he murmured, doing a poor job of cleaning himself up. 

She resisted the urge to help him, feeling her brother’s sharp gaze on their every interaction. “It’ll take more than bald gratitude to make up for offending my dog.”

His jaw feathered, smile pulling at his thin lips. “Noted.”

Only then did she notice the weariness etched into his face, the pallor of his skin, more pronounced than the last time she’d seen him. 

Because of her? Or was there something else bothering him?

Like a slow-rolling wave, she realized how little she knew about this man who seemed determined to remain in her life, showing up when she least expected it, breaking her out of herself and then leaving again. 

Percy. Keyleth’s friend. 

Bits of the picture continued to form as they stared at each other, and only when Pike interrupted to give him his drink, and Keyleth returned with a new pot to house Percy’s gift, did they break apart. He was tugged to the side, introductions began. She watched him attempt to be cordial with a kind of voyeuristic pleasure. So he was every bit the awkward charmer he’d been when she’d met him in real life. It wasn’t an act. It undermined a few of the weaker arguments against his continued presence in her life—that he was borne of that world of glitter and gossip and had played the bumbling outsider only for her benefit. She knew enough to see that there was some artifice there, in his forced smiles and pleasantries, but not enough skill to fool anyone who knew what to look for. 

Vex found herself sitting on the arm of Vax’s chair, busying herself by scratching behind Trinket’s ears. He was calm now, though he too seemed to be watching the new arrival with attention. 

“You know him?”

Vex frowned at her brother, distracting herself with another sip of bourbon. “Not really.”

He waited for her to continue, expression flat.

“We met at a gala a few weeks ago. Uriel’s party. That’s all.”

Vax stared at her, eventually murmuring in an easy voice which did not fool her one bit, “All right. I was just curious.”

Vex retired to the kitchen soon after, fixing herself another drink. At this rate, she would be drunk before nine, but she had to do something to stop herself from staring. 

She braced her hands against the sink, took a moment to close her eyes, to organize her flitting, manic thoughts. This was nothing. Yes, it was a surprise that he was here, in her brother’s girlfriend’s tiny apartment. Yes, it was the third time they’d met by chance in the last two weeks. Yes, she’d been determined to end their ephemeral _whatever_ only two days ago, but…

_Percy_. 

His name was Percy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in getting this up guys! I had to take a little break from the internet. I promise I will get to replying to all your comments in the next day or two <3


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